A KING AND NO KING

by Francis Beaumont

and John Fletcher

c. 1611

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

The Iberians:

Arbaces, King of Iberia.

Arane, the Queen-Mother.

Panthea, her daughter.

Gobrias, Lord-Protector.

Bacurius, a Lord.

Mardonius, a Captain.

Bessus, a Captain.

Two Sword-Men.

Three Shop-Men.

Citizens’ Wives, &c.

Philip, a servant.

The Armenians:

Tigranes, King of Armenia.

Lygones, a Lord

Spaconia, daughter of Lygones.

Gentlemen, Attendants, &c.

SCENE:

During the First Act the Frontiers of Armenia;

Afterwards the Metropolis of Iberia.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Camp of Arbaces, on the Frontiers of Armenia.

Enter Mardonius and Bessus.

Mar. Bessus, the king has made a fair hand on't; he

has ended the wars at a blow. Would my sword had

a close basket hilt, to hold wine, and the blade would

make knives! for we shall have nothing but eating

and drinking.

Bes. We that are commanders shall do well enough.

Mar. Faith, Bessus, such commanders as thou may:

I had as lieve set thee perdu for a pudding i' the dark

as Alexander the Great.

Bes. I love these jests exceedingly.

Mar. I think thou lovest 'em better than quarrelling,

Bessus; I'll say so much in thy behalf. And yet thou art

valiant enough upon a retreat: I think thou wouldst kill

any man that stopt thee, an thou couldst.

Bes. But was not this a brave combat, Mardonius?

Mar. Why, didst thou see ‘t?

Bes. You stood with me.

Mar. I did so; but methought thou winkedst every blow

they strake.

Bes. Well, I believe there are better soldiers than I, that

never saw two princes fight in lists.

Mar. By my troth, I think so too, Bessus, − many a

thousand: but, certainly, all that are worse than thou

have seen as much.

Bes. 'Twas bravely done of our king.

Mar. Yes, if he had not ended the wars. I'm glad thou

darest talk of such dangerous businesses.

Bes. To take a prince prisoner in the heart of his own

country, in single combat!

Mar. See how thy blood cruddles at this! I think thou

couldst be contented to be beaten i' this passion.

Bes. Shall I tell you truly?

Mar. Ay.

Bes. I could willingly venture for ‘t.

Mar. Hum; no venture neither, good Bessus.

Bes. Let me not live, if I do not think it is a braver

piece of service than that I'm so famed for.

Mar. Why, art thou famed for any valour?

Bes. Famed! Ay, I warrant you.

Mar. I’m e’en very heartily glad on't: I have been

with thee ever since thou camest to the wars, and this

is the first word that ever I heard on't. Prithee, who

fames thee?

Bes. The Christian world.

Mar. 'Tis heathenishly done of 'em; in my conscience,

thou deservest it not.

Bes. Yes, I ha' done good service.

Mar. I do not know how thou may'st wait of a man in's

chamber, or thy agility in shifting a trencher; but

otherwise no service, good Bessus.

Bes. You saw me do the service yourself.

Mar. Not so hasty, sweet Bessus: where was it? is the

place vanished?

Bes. At Bessus' Desperate Redemption.

Mar. At Bessus' Desperate Redemption! where's that?

Bes. There, where I redeemed the day; the place

bears my name.

Mar. Prithee, who christened it?

Bes. The soldier.

Mar. If I were not a very merrily disposed man, what

would become of thee? One that had but a grain of

choler in the whole composition of his body would

send thee of an errand to the worms for putting thy

name upon that field: did not I beat thee there, i' th'

head o' the troops, with a truncheon, because thou

wouldst needs run away with thy company, when we

should charge the enemy?

Bes. True; but I did not run.

Mar. Right, Bessus: I beat thee out on't.

Bes. But came not I up when the day was gone, and

redeemed all?

Mar. Thou knowest, and so do I, thou meanedst to fly,

and thy fear making thee mistake, thou rannest upon the

enemy; and a hot charge thou gavest; as, I'll do thee

right, thou art furious in running away; and I think we

owe thy fear for our victory. If I were the king, and

were sure thou wouldst mistake always, and run away

upon the enemy, thou shouldst be general, by this light.

Bes. You'll never leave this till I fall foul.

Mar. No more such words, dear Bessus; for though I

have ever known thee a coward, and therefore durst

never strike thee, yet if thou proceedest, I will

allow thee valiant, and beat thee.

Bes. Come, come, our king's a brave fellow.

Mar. He is so, Bessus; I wonder how thou camest to

know it. But, if thou wert a man of understanding, I

would tell thee, he is vain-glorious and humble, and

angry and patient, and merry and dull, and joyful and

sorrowful, in extremities, in an hour. Do not think me

thy friend for this; for if I cared who knew it, thou

shouldst not hear it, Bessus. Here he is, with the

prey in his foot.

Enter Arbaces, Tigranes,

two Gentlemen, and Attendants.

Arb. Thy sadness, brave Tigranes, takes away

From my full victory: am I become

Of so small fame, that any man should grieve

When I o'ercome him? They that placed me here

Intended it an honour, large enough

For the most valiant living, but to dare

Oppose me single, though he lost the day.

What should afflict you? You are free as I;

To be my prisoner, is to be more free

Than you were formerly: and never think,

The man I held worthy to combat me

Shall be used servilely. Thy ransom is,

To take my only sister to thy wife;

A heavy one, Tigranes; for she is

A lady, that the neighbor-princes send

Blanks to fetch home. I have been too unkind

To her, Tigranes: she’s but nine years old,

I left her, and ne'er saw her since; your wars

Have held me long, and taught me, though a youth,

The way to victory. She was a pretty child;

Then, I was little better; but now fame

Cries loudly on her, and my messengers

Make me believe she is a miracle.

She'll make you shrink, as I did, with a stroke

But of her eye, Tigranes.

Tigr. Is't the course of

Iberia to use their prisoners thus?

Had fortune thrown my name above Arbaces',

I should not thus have talked; for in Armenia

We hold it base. You should have kept your temper

Till you saw home again, where 'tis the fashion,

Perhaps, to brag.

Arb. Be you my witness, earth,

Need I to brag? Doth not this captive prince

Speak me sufficiently, and all the acts

That I have wrought upon his suffering land?

Should I, then, boast? Where lies that foot of ground

Within his whole realm, that I have not passed

Fighting and conquering? Far, then, from me

Be ostentation. I could tell the world

How I have laid his kingdom desolate,

By this sole arm, propt by divinity;

Stript him out of his glories; and have sent

The pride of all his youth to people graves;

And made his virgins languish for their loves;

If I would brag. Should I, that have the power

To teach the neighbor-world humility,

Mix with vain-glory?

Mar. [Aside] Indeed, this is none!

Arb. Tigranes, no: did I but take delight

To stretch my deeds as others do, on words,

I could amaze my hearers.

Mar. [Aside] So you do.

Arb. But he shall wrong his and my modesty,

That thinks me apt to boast: after an act

Fit for a god to do upon his foe,

A little glory in a soldier's mouth

Is well-becoming; be it far from vain.

Mar. [Aside]

'Tis pity, that valour should be thus drunk.

Arb. I offer you my sister: and you answer,

I do insult: a lady that no suit,

Nor treasure, nor thy crown, could purchase thee,

But that thou fought'st with me.

Tigr. Though this be worse

Than that you spoke before, it strikes me not;

But that you think to overgrace me with

The marriage of your sister troubles me.

I would give worlds for ransoms, were they mine,

Rather than have her.

Arb. See, if I insult,

That am the conqueror, and for a ransom

Offer rich treasure to the conquerèd,

Which he refuses, and I bear his scorn!

It cannot be self-flattery to say,

The daughters of your country, set by her,

Would see their shame, run home, and blush to death

At their own foulness. Yet she is not fair,

Nor beautiful, those words express her not:

They say, her looks have something excellent,

That wants a name. Yet were she odious,

Her birth deserves the empire of the world:

Sister to such a brother, that hath ta'en

Victory prisoner, and throughout the earth

Carries her bound, and should he let her loose,

She durst not leave him. Nature did her wrong,

To print continual conquest on her cheeks,

And make no man worthy for her to take,

But me, that am too near her; and as strangely

She did for me; but you will think I brag.

Mar. [Aside] I do, I'll be sworn. Thy valour and thy

passions severed would have made two excellent

fellows in their kinds. I know not whether I should be

sorry thou art so valiant, or so passionate: would one

of 'em were away!

Tigr. Do I refuse her, that I doubt her worth?

Were she as virtuous as she would be thought;

So perfect, that no one of her own sex

Could find a want; had she so tempting fair,

That she could wish it off, for damning souls;

I would pay any ransom, twenty lives,

Rather than meet her married in my bed.

Perhaps I have a love, where I have fixed

Mine eyes, not to be moved, and she on me;

I am not fickle.

Arb. Is that all the cause?

Think you, you can so knit yourself in love

To any other, that her searching sight

Cannot dissolve it? So, before you tried,

You thought yourself a match for me in fight.

Trust me, Tigranes, she can do as much

In peace as I in war; she'll conquer too:

You shall see, if you have the power to stand

The force of her swift looks. If you dislike,

I'll send you home with love, and name your ransom

Some other way; but if she be your choice,

She frees you. To Iberia you must.

Tigr. Sir, I have learned a prisoner's sufferance,

And will obey. But give me leave to talk

In private with some friends before I go.

Arb. Some two await him forth, and see him safe;

But let him freely send for whom he please,

And none dare to disturb his conference;

I will not have him know what bondage is,

Till he be free from me.

[Exit Tigranes with Attendants.]

This prince, Mardonius,

Is full of wisdom, valour, all the graces

Man can receive.

Mar. And yet you conquered him.

Arb. And yet I conquered him, and could have done’t

Had’st thou joined with him, though thy name in arms

Be great. Must all men that are virtuous

Think suddenly to match themselves with me?

I conquered him, and bravely; did I not?

Bes. An please your majesty, I was afraid at first −

Mar. When wert thou other?

Arb. Of what?

Bes. That you would not have spied your best

advantages; for your majesty, in my opinion, lay too

high; methinks, under favour, you should have lain thus.

Mar. Like a tailor at a wake.

Bes. And then, if't please your majesty to remember, at

one time − by my troth, I wished myself wi' you.

Mar. By my troth, thou wouldst ha' stunk 'em both

out o' th' lists.

Arb. What to do?

Bes. To put your majesty in mind of an occasion: you

lay thus, and Tigranes falsified a blow at your leg,

which you, by doing thus, avoided; but, if you had

whipped up your leg thus, and reached him on the ear,

you had made the blood-royal run about his head.

Mar. What country fence-school didst thou learn that at?

Arb. Puff! did not I take him nobly?

Mar. Why, you did

And you have talked enough on't.

Arb. Talked enough!

Will you confine my words? By Heaven and earth,

I were much better be a king of beasts

Than such a people! If I had not patience

Above a god, I should be called a tyrant

Throughout the world: they will offend to death

Each minute. Let me hear thee speak again,

And thou art earth again. Why, this is like

Tigranes' speech, that needs would say I bragged.

Bessus, he said I bragged.

Bes. Ha, ha, ha!

Arb. Why dost thou laugh?

By all the world, I'm grown ridiculous

To my own subjects. Tie me to a chair,

And jest at me! But I shall make a start,

And punish some, that others may take heed

How they are haughty. Who will answer me?

He said I boasted: speak, Mardonius,

Did I? − He will not answer. Oh, my temper!

I give you thanks above, that taught my heart

Patience; I can endure his silence. What, will none

Vouchsafe to give me answer? Am I grown

To such a poor respect? or do you mean

To break my wind? Speak, speak, some one of you

Or else, by Heaven −

1st Gent. So please your −

Arb. Monstrous!

I cannot be heard out; they cut me off,

As if I were too saucy. I will live

In woods, and talk to trees; they will allow me

To end what I begin. The meanest subject

Can find a freedom to discharge his soul,

And not I. Now it is a time to speak;

I hearken.

1st Gent. May it please −

Arb. I mean not you;

Did not I stop you once? But I am grown

To talk but idly: let another speak.

2nd Gent. I hope your majesty −

Arb. Thou drawl'st thy words,

That I must wait an hour, where other men

Can hear in instants: throw your words away

Quick and to purpose; I have told you this.

Bes. An't please your majesty −

Arb. Wilt thou devour me? This is such a rudeness

As yet you never showed me: and I want

Power to command too; else, Mardonius

Would speak at my request. − Were you my king,

I would have answered at your word, Mardonius:

I pray you, speak, and truly; did I boast?

Mar. Truth will offend you.

Arb. You take all great care

What will offend me, when you dare to utter

Such things as these.

Mar. You told Tigranes, you had won his land

With that sole arm, propped by divinity:

Was not that bragging, and a wrong to us,

That daily ventured lives?

Arb. O, that thy name

Were great as mine! 'would I had paid my wealth

It were as great, as I might combat thee!

I would, through all the regions habitable,

Search thee, and, having found thee, with my sword

Drive thee about the world, till I had met

Some place that yet man's curiosity

Had missed of; there, there would I strike thee dead:

Forgotten of mankind, such funeral rites

As beasts would give thee, thou shouldst have.

Bes. The king

Rages extremely: shall we slink away?

He'll strike us.

2nd Gent. Content.

Arb. There I would make you know, 'twas this sole arm.

I grant, you were my instruments, and did

As I commanded you; but 'twas this arm

Moved you like wheels; it moved you as it pleased. −

Whither slip you now? What, are you too good

To wait on me? Puff! I had need have temper,

That rule such people; I have nothing left

At my own choice: I would I might be private!

Mean men enjoy themselves; but 'tis our curse

To have a tumult, that, out of their loves,

Will wait on us, whether we will or no.

Go, get you gone! Why, here they stand like death;

My words move nothing.

1st Gent. Must we go?

Bes. I know not.

Arb. I pray you, leave me, sirs. I'm proud of this,

That you will be entreated from my sight.

[Exeunt two Gentlemen, Bessus, and Attendants.

Mardonius is going out.]

Why, now they leave me all! − Mardonius!

Mar. Sir?

Arb. Will you leave me quite alone? methinks,

Civility should teach you more than this,

If I were but your friend. Stay here, and wait.

Mar. Sir, shall I speak?

Arb. Why, you would now think much

To be denied; but I can scarce entreat

What I would have. Do, speak.

Mar. But will you hear me out?

Arb. With me you article, to talk thus. Well,

I will hear you out.

Mar. [Kneels.] Sir, that I have ever loved you,

My sword hath spoken for me; that I do,

If it be doubted, I dare call an oath,

A great one, to my witness; and were

You not my king, from amongst men I should

Have chose you out, to love above the rest:

Nor can this challenge thanks; for my own sake

I should have done it, because I would have loved

The most deserving man, for so you are.

Arb. [Raising him.]

Alas, Mardonius, rise! you shall not kneel:

We all are soldiers, and all venture lives;

And where there is no difference in men's worths,

Titles are jests. Who can outvalue thee?

Mardonius, thou hast loved me, and hast wrong;

Thy love is not rewarded; but believe

It shall be better: more than friend in arms,

My father and my tutor, good Mardonius!

Mar. Sir, you did promise you would hear me out.

Arb. And so I will: speak freely, for from thee

Nothing can come, but worthy things and true.

Mar. Though you have all this worth, you hold some qualities

That do eclipse your virtues.

Arb. Eclipse my virtues!

Mar. Yes,

Your passiöns, which are so manifold, that they

Appear even in this: when I commend you,

You hug me for that truth; when I speak of your faults,

You make a start, and fly the hearing. But −

Arb. When you commend me! Oh, that I should live

To need such commendations! If my deeds

Blew not my praise themselves about the earth,

I were most wretched! Spare your idle praise:

If thou didst mean to flatter, and shouldst utter

Words in my praise, that thou thought'st impudence,

My deeds should make 'em modest. When you praise,

I hug you! 'tis so false, that, wert thou worthy,

Thou shouldst receive a death, a glorious death,

From me. But thou shalt understand thy lies;

For shouldst thou praise me into Heaven, and there

Leave me enthroned, I would despise thee though

As much as now, which is as much as dust,

Because I see thy envy.

Mar. However you will use me after, yet,

For your own promise sake, hear me the rest.

Arb. I will, and after call unto the winds,

For they shall lend as large an ear as I

To what you utter. Speak.

Mar. Would you but leave

These nasty tempers, which I do not say

Take from you all your worth, but darken 'em,

Then you would shine indeed.

Arb. Well.

Mar. Yet I would have

You keep some passiöns, lest men should take you

For a god, your virtues are such.

Arb. Why, now you flatter.

Mar. I never understood the word. Were you

No king, and free from these wild moods, should I

Choose a companiön for wit and pleasure,

It should be you; or for honesty to interchange

My bosom with, it should be you; or wisdom

To give me counsel, I would pick out you;

Or valour to defend my reputation,

Still I would find out you, for you are fit

To fight for all the world, if it could come

In questiön. Now I have spoke: consider

To yourself, find out a use; if so, then what

Shall fall to me is not material.

Arb. Is not material? more than ten such lives

As mine, Mardonius. It was nobly said;

Thou hast spoke truth, and boldly such a truth

As might offend another. I have been

Too passionate and idle; thou shalt see

A swift amendment. But I want those parts

You praise me for: I fight for all the world!

Give thee a sword, and thou wilt go as far

Beyond me as thou art beyond in years;

I know thou dar'st and wilt. It troubles me

That I should use so rough a phrase to thee:

Impute it to my folly, what thou wilt,

So thou wilt pardon me. That thou and I

Should differ thus!

Mar. Why, 'tis no matter, sir.

Arb. 'Faith, but it is: but thou dost ever take

All things I do thus patiently; for which

I never can requite thee but with love,

And that thou shalt be sure of. Thou and I

Have not been merry lately: pray thee, tell me,

Where hadst thou that same jewèl in thine ear?

Mar. Why, at the taking of a town.

Arb. A wench,

Upon my life, a wench, Mardonius,

Gave thee that jewel.

Mar. Wench! They respect not me;

I'm old and rough, and every limb about me,

But that which should, grows stiffer. I' those businesses,

I may swear I am truly honest; for I pay

Justly for what I take, and would be glad

To be at a certainty.

Arb. Why, do the wenches encroach upon thee?

Mar. Ay, by this light, do they.

Arb. Didst thou sit at an old rent with 'em?

Mar. Yes, faith.

Arb. And do they improve themselves?

Mar. Ay, ten shillings to me, every new young fellow

they come acquainted with.

Arb. How canst live on't?

Mar. Why, I think, I must petition to you.

Arb. Thou shalt take 'em up at my price.

Enter two Gentlemen and Bessus.

Mar. Your price!

Arb. Ay, at the king's price.

Mar. That may be more than I'm worth.

1st Gent. Is he not merry now?

2nd Gent. I think not.

Bes. He is, he is: We'll show ourselves.

Arb. Bessus! I thought you had been in Iberia by this; I

bade you haste; Gobrias will want entertainment for me.

Bes. An't please your majesty, I have a suit.

Arb. Is't not lousy, Bessus? what is't?

Bes. I am to carry a lady with me −

Arb. Then thou hast two suits.

Bes. And if I can prefer her to the lady Panthea, your

majesty's sister, to learn fashions, as her friends term it,

it will be worth something to me.

Arb. So many nights' lodgings as 'tis thither; will't not?

Bes. I know not that, sir; but gold I shall be sure of.

Arb. Why, thou shalt bid her entertain her from me,

so thou wilt resolve me one thing.

Bes. If I can.

Arb. 'Faith, ‘tis a very disputable question; and yet I

think thou canst decide it.

Bes. Your majesty has a good opinion of my

understanding.

Arb. I have so good an opinion of it: 'tis whether thou

be valiant.

Bes. Somebody has traduced me to you: do you see

this sword, sir?

[Draws.]

Arb. Yes.

Bes. If I do not make my back-biters eat it to a knife

within this week, say I am not valiant.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Health to your majesty!

[Delivers a letter.]

Arb. From Gobrias?

Mess. Yes, Sir.

Arb. How does he? is he well?

Mess. In perfect health.

Arb. Take that for thy good news. −

[Gives money.]

A trustier servant to his prince there lives not

Than is good Gobrias.

[Reads.]

1st Gent. The king starts back.

Mar. His blood goes back as fast.

2nd Gent. And now it comes again.

Mar. He alters strangely.

Arb. The hand of Heaven is on me: be it far

From me to struggle! If my secret sins

Have pulled this curse upon me, lend me tears

Enow to wash me white, that I may feel

A child-like innocence within my breast:

Which once performed, oh, gives me leave to stand

As fixed as Constancy herself: my eyes

Set here unmoved, regardless of the world,

Though thousand miseries encompass me!

Mar. This is strange! − Sir, how do you?

Arb. Mardonius, my mother −

Mar. Is she dead?

Arb. Alas, she's not so happy! Thou dost know

How she hath laboured, since my father died,

To take by treason hence this loathèd life,

That would but be to serve her. I have pardoned,

And pardoned, and by that have made her fit

To practise new sins, not repent the old.

She now had hired a slave to come from thence,

And strike me here; whom Gobrias, sifting out,

Took, and condemned, and executed there,

The carefull'st servant! Heaven, let me but live

To pay that man! Nature is poor to me,

That will not let me have as many deaths

As are the times that he hath saved my life,

That I might die 'em over all for him.

Mar. Sir, let her bear her sins on her own head;

Vex not yourself.

Arb. What will the world

Conceive of me? with what unnatural sins

Will they suppose me laden, when my life

Is sought by her that gave it to the world?

But yet he writes me comfort here: my sister,

He says, is grown in beauty and in grace,

In all the innocent virtues that become

A tender spotless maid: she stains her cheeks

With mourning tears, to purge her mother's ill;

And 'mongst that sacred dew she mingles prayers,

Her pure oblations, for my safe return. −

If I have lost the duty of a son,

If any pomp or vanity of state

Made me forget my natural offices,

Nay, further, if I have not every night

Expostulated with my wand'ring thoughts,

If aught unto my parent they have erred,

And called 'em back; do you direct her arm

Unto this foul dissembling heart of mine:

But if I have been just to her, send out

Your power to compass me, and hold me safe

From searching treason! I will use no means

But prayer: for, rather suffer me to see

From mine own veins issue a deadly flood,

Than wash my danger off with mother's blood.

Mar. I ne'er saw such sudden extremities.

[Exeunt.]

ACT I, SCENE II.

Another part of the Camp.

Enter Tigranes And Spaconia.

Tigr. Why, wilt thou have me fly, Spaconia?

What should I do?

Spa. Nay, let me stay alone;

And when you see Armenia again,

You shall behold a tomb more worth than I:

Some friend, that ever loves me or my cause,

Will build me something to distinguish me

From other women; many a weeping verse

He will lay on, and much lament those maids

That place their loves unfortunately high,

As I have done, where they can never reach.

But why should you go to Iberia?

Tigr. Alas, that thou wilt ask me! Ask the man

That rages in a fever, why he lies

Distempered there, when all the other youths

Are coursing o'er the meadows with their loves:

Can I resist it? am I not a slave

To him that conquered me?

Spa. That conquered thee,

Tigranes, he has won but half of thee −

Thy body; but thy mind may be as free

As his; his will did never combat thine,

And take it prisoner.

Tigr. But if he by force

Convey my body hence, what helps it me,

Or thee, to be unwilling?

Spa. O, Tigranes!

I know you are to see a lady there;

To see, and like, I fear: perhaps the hope

Of her makes you forget me ere we part.

Be happier than you know to wish! farewell.

Tigr. Spaconia, stay, and hear me what I say.

In short, destruction meet me, that I may

See it, and not avoid it, when I leave

To be thy faithful lover! Part with me

Thou shalt not; there are none that know our love;

And I have given gold unto a captain,

That goes unto Iberia from the king,

That he would place a lady of our land

With the king's sister that is offered me;

Thither shall you, and, being once got in,

Persuade her, by what subtle means you can,

To be as backward in her love as I.

Spa. Can you imagine that a longing maid,

When she beholds you, can be pulled away

With words from loving you?

Tigr. Dispraise my health,

My honesty, and tell her I am jealous.

Spa. Why, I had rather loose you. Can my heart

Consent to let my tongue throw out such words?

And I, that ever yet spoke what I thought,

Shall find it such a thing at first to lie!

Tigr. Yet, do thy best.

Enter Bessus.

Bes. What, is your majesty ready?

Tigr. There is the lady, captain.

Bes. Sweet lady, by your leave. I could wish myself

more full of courtship for your fair sake.

Spa. Sir, I shall feel no want of that.

Bes. Lady, you must haste; I have received new letters

from the king, that require more speed than I expected:

he will follow me suddenly himself; and begins to call

for your majesty already.

Tigr. He shall not do so long.

Bes. Sweet lady, shall I call you my charge hereafter?

Spa. I will not take upon me to govern your tongue, sir:

you shall call me what you please.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Capital of Iberia.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Gobrias, Bacurius, Arane, Panthea,

Waiting-women and Attendants.

Gob. My Lord Bacurius, you must have regard

Unto the queen; she is your prisoner;

'Tis at your peril, if she make escape.

Bac. My Lord, I know't; she is my prisoner,

From you committed: yet she is a woman;

And, so I keep her safe, you will not urge me

To keep her close. I shall not shame to say,

I sorrow for her.

Gob. So do I, my lord:

I sorrow for her, that so little grace

Doth govern her, that she should stretch her arm

Against her king; so little womanhood

And natural goodness, as to think the death

Of her own son.

Arane. Thou know'st the reason why,

Dissembling as thou art, and wilt not speak.

Gob. There is a lady takes not after you;

Her father is within her; that good man,

Whose tears paid down his sins. Mark how she weeps;

How well it does become her! And if you

Can find no disposition in yourself

To sorrow, yet by gracefulness in her

Find out the way, and by your reason weep:

All this she does for you, and more she needs,

When for yourself you will not lose a tear.

Think how this want of grief discredits you;

And you will weep, because you cannot weep.

Arane. You talk to me, as having got a time

Fit for your purpose; but you know, I know

You speak not what you think.

Pan. I would my heart

Were stone, before my softness should be urged

Against my mother! A more troubled thought

No virgin bears about her: should I excuse

My mother's fault, I should set light a life,

In losing which a brother and a king

Were taken from me: if I seek to save

That life so loved, I lose another life,

That gave me being, − I shall lose a mother,

A word of such a sound in a child's ear,

That it strikes reverence through it. May the will

Of Heaven be done, and if one needs must fall,

Take a poor virgin's life to answer all!

Arane. But, Gobrias, let us talk. You know, this fault

Is not in me as in another woman.

[They walk apart.]

Gob. I know it is not.

Arane. Yet you make it so.

Gob. Why, is not all that's past beyond your help?

Arane. I know it is.

Gob. Nay, should you publish it

Before the world, think you 'twould be believed?

Arane. I know, it would not.

Gob. Nay, should I join with you,

Should we not both be torn, and yet both die

Uncredited?

Arane. I think we should.

Gob. Why, then,

Take you such violent courses? As for me,

I do but right in saving of the king

From all your plots.

Arane. The king!

Gob. I bade you rest

With patience, and a time would come for me

To reconcile all to your own content;

But by this way you take away my power;

And what was done, unknown, was not by me,

But you; your urging being done,

I must preserve mine own; but time may bring

All this to light, and happily for all.

Arane. Accursèd be this over-curious brain,

That gave that plot a birth! Accursed this womb,

That after did conceive to my disgrace!

Bac. My Lord-protector, they say, there are divers

letters come from Armenia, that Bessus has done

good service, and brought again a day by his particular

valour: received you any to that effect?

Gob. Yes; 'tis most certain.

Bac. I'm sorry for't; not that the day was won, but that

'twas won by him. We held him here a coward: he did

me wrong once, at which I laughed, and so did all the

world; for nor I, nor any other, held him worth my

sword.

Enter Bessus and Spaconia.

Bes. Health to my Lord-protector! From the king these

letters, − and to your grace, madam, these.

[Gives letters to Gorbias and Panthea.]

Gob. How does his majesty?

Bes. As well as conquest, by his own means and his

valiant commanders, can make him: your letters will

tell you all.

Pan. I will not open mine, till I do know

My brother's health: good captain, is he well?

Bes. As the rest of us that fought are.

Pan. But how's that? is he hurt?

Bes. He's a strange soldier that gets not a knock.

Pan. I do not ask how strange that soldier is

That gets no hurt, but whether he have one.

Bes. He had divers.

Pan. And is he well again?

Bes. Well again, an't please your grace! Why, I was

run twice through the body, and shot i' the head with

a cross arrow, and yet am well again.

Pan. I do not care how thou dost: is he well?

Bes. Not care how I do? Let a man, out of the

mightiness of his spirit, fructify foreign countries with

his blood, for the good of his own, and thus he shall be

answered. Why, I may live to relieve, with spear and

shield, such a lady [as you] distressed.

Pan. Why, I will care: I'm glad that thou art well;

I prithee, is he so?

Gob. The king is well, and will be here to-morrow.

Pan. My prayer is heard. Now will I open mine.

[Reads.]

Gob. Bacurius, I must ease you of your charge.−

Madam, the wonted mercy of the king,

That overtakes your faults, has met with this,

And struck it out; he has forgiven you freely:

Your own will is your law; be where you please.

Arane. I thank him.

Gob. You will be ready to wait

Upon his majesty to-morrow?

Arane. I will.

Bac. Madam, be wise, hereafter. I am glad

I have lost this office.

[Exit Arane.]

Gob. Good captain Bessus, tell us the discourse

Betwixt Tigranes and our king, and how

We got the victory.

Pan. I prithee do;

And if my brother were in any danger,

Let not thy tale make him abide there long

Before thou bring him off, for all that while

My heart will beat.

Bes. Madam, let what will beat, I must tell truth, and

thus it was: they fought single in lists, but one to one.

As for my own part, I was dangerously hurt but three

days before; else perhaps we had been two to two, −

I cannot tell, some thought we had; and the occasion

of my hurt was this: the enemy had made trenches −

Gob. Captain, without the manner of your hurt

Be much material to this business,

We'll hear't some other time.

Pan. I prithee, leave it,

And go on with my brother.

Bes. I will; but 'twould be worth your hearing. To the

lists they came, and single sword and gauntlet was their

fight.

Pan. Alas!

Bes. Without the lists there stood some dozen captains

of either side mingled, all which were sworn, and one of

those was I; and 'twas my chance to stand next a captain

of the enemies' side, called Tiribasus; valiant, they said,

he was. Whilst these two kings were stretching

themselves, this Tiribasus cast something a scornful

look on me, and asked me, who I thought would

overcome. I smiled, and told him, if he would fight with

me, he should perceive by the event of that, whose king

would win. Something he answered; and a scuffle was

like to grow, when one Zipetus offered to help him: I −

Pan. All this of is thyself: I prithee, Bessus,

Tell something of my brother; did he nothing?

Bes. Why, yes; I'll tell your grace. They were not to

fight till the word given; which for my own part, by my

troth, [I confess,] I was not to give.

Pan. See, for his own part!

Bac. I fear, yet, this fellow's abused with a good

report.

Bes. Ay, but I −

Pan. Still of himself!

Bes. Cried, "Give the word!" when, as some of them

say, Tigranes was stooping; but the word was not given

then; yet one Cosroes, of the enemies' part, held up his

finger to me, which is as much with us martialists, as,

"I will fight with you:" I said not a word, nor made sign

during the combat; but that once done −

Pan. He slips o’er all the fight!

Bes. I called him to me; “Cosroes," said I −

Pan. I will hear no more.

Bes. No, no, I lie.

Bac. I dare be sworn thou dost.

Bes. "Captain," said I; so 'twas.

Pan. I tell thee, I will hear no further.

Bes. No? Your grace will wish you had.

Pan. I will not wish it. What, is this the lady

My brother writes to me to take?

Bes. An't please your grace this is she. − Charge, will

you come nearer the princess?

Pan. You are welcome from your country; and this land

Shall show unto you all the kindnesses

That I can make it. What's your name?

Spa. Thalestris.

Pan. You're very welcome: you have got a letter

To put you to me, that has power enough

To place mine enemy here; then much more you,

That are so far from being so to me,

That you ne'er saw me.

Bes. Madam, I dare pass my word for her truth.

Spa. My truth?

Pan. Why, captain, do you think I am afraid she'll steal?

Bes. I cannot tell; servants are slippery; but I dare give

my word for her, and for her honesty: she came along

with me, and many fayours she did me by the way; but,

by this light, none but what she might do with modesty,

to a man of my rank.

Pan. Why, captain, here's nobody thinks otherwise.

Bes. Nay, if you should, your grace may think your

pleasure; but I am sure I brought her from Armenia, and

in all that way, if ever I touched any bare of her above

her knee, I pray God I may sink where I stand.

Spa. Above my knee?

Bes. No, you know I did not; and if any man will say I

did, this sword shall answer. Nay, I'll defend the

reputation of my charge whilst I live. Your grace shall

understand I am secret in these businesses, and know

how to defend a lady's honour.

Spa. I hope your grace knows him so well already,

I shall not need to tell you he's vain and foolish.

Bes. Ay, you may call me what you please, but I'll

defend your good name against the world. − And so I

take my leave of your grace, − and of you, my Lord-

protector. − I am likewise glad to see your lordship well.

Bac. Oh, captain Bessus, I thank you. I would speak

with you anon.

Bes. When you please, I will attend your lordship.

[Exit.]

Bac. Madam I'll take my leave too.

Pan. Good Bacurius!

[Exit Bacurius.]

Gob. Madam, what writes his majesty to you?

Pan. Oh, my lord,

The kindest words! I'll keep 'em while I live,

Here in my bosom; there's no art in 'em;

They lie disordered in this paper, just

As hearty nature speaks 'em.

Gob. And to me

He writes, what tears of joy he shed, to hear

How you were grown in every virtuous way;

And yields all thanks to me, for that dear care

Which I was bound to have in training you.

There is no princess living that enjoys

A brother of that worth.

Pan. My lord, no maid

Longs more for anything, or feels more heat

And cold within her breast, than I do now

In hope to see him.

Gob. Yet I wonder much

At this: he writes, he brings along with him

A husband for you, that same captive prince;

And if he love you, as he makes a show,

He will allow you freedom in your choice.

Pan. And so he will, my lord, I warrant you;

He will but offer, and give me the power

To take or leave.

Gob. Trust me, were I a lady,

I could not like that man were bargained with

Before I choose him.

Pan. But I am not built

On such wild humours; if I find him worthy,

He is not less because he's offerèd.

Spa. [Aside]

'Tis true he is not: would he would seem less!

Gob. I think there is no lady can affect

Another prince, your brother standing by:

He doth eclipse men's virtues so with his.

Spa. [Aside] I know a lady may, and more, I fear,

Another lady will.

Pan. Would I might see him!

Gob. Why so you shall. My businesses are great:

I will attend you when it is his pleasure

To see you, madam.

Pan. I thank you, good my lord.

Gob. You will be ready, madam?

Pan. Yes.

[Exit Gobrias with Attendants.]

Spa. I do beseech you, madam, send away

Your other women, and receive from me

A few sad words, which, set against your joys,

May make 'em shine the more.

Pan. Sirs, leave me all.

[Exeunt Waiting-women.]

Spa. [Kneels] I kneel, a stranger here, to beg a thing

Unfit for me to ask, and you to grant:

'Tis such another strange ill-laid request,

As if a beggar should entreat a king

To leave his sceptre and his throne to him,

And take his rags to wander o'er the world,

Hungry and cold.

Pan. That were a strange request.

Spa. As ill is mine.

Pan. Then do not utter it.

Spa. Alas, 'tis of that nature, that it must

Be uttered, ay, and granted, or I die!

I am ashamed to speak it; but where life

Lies at the stake, I cannot think her woman,

That will not talk something unreasonably

To hazard saving of it. I shall seem

A strange petitioner, that wish all ill

To them I beg of, ere they give me aught;

Yet so I must. I would you were not fair

Nor wise, for in your ill consists my good:

If you were foolish, you would hear my prayer;

If foul, you had not power to hinder me, −

He would not love you.

Pan. What's the meaning of it?

Spa. Nay, my request is more without the bounds

Of reason yet: for 'tis not in the power

Of you to do what I would have you grant.

Pan. Why, then, 'tis idle. Prithee, speak it out.

Spa. Your brother brings a prince into this land

Of such a noble shape, so sweet a grace,

So full of worth withal, that every maid

That looks upon him gives away herself

To him for ever; and for you to have,

He brings him: and so mad is my demand,

That I desire you not to have this man,

This excellent man; for whom you needs must die,

If you should miss him. I do now expect

You should laugh at me.

Pan. Trust me, I could weep

Rather; for I have found in all thy words

A strange disjointed sorrow.

Spa. 'Tis by me

His own desire too, that you would not love him.

Pan. His own desire! Why, credit me, Thalestris,

I am no common wooer: if he shall woo me,

His worth may be such, that I dare not swear

I will not love him: but if he will stay

To have me woo him, I will promise thee

He may keep all his graces to himself,

And fear no ravishing from me.

Spa. 'Tis yet

His own desire; but when he sees your face,

I fear it will not be. Therefore I charge you,

As you have pity, stop those tender ears

From his enchanting voice; close up those eyes

That you may neither catch a dart from him,

Nor he from you: I charge you, as you hope

To live in quiet; for when I am dead,

For certain I shall walk to visit him,

If he break promise with me: for as fast

As oaths, without a formal ceremony,

Can make me, I am to him.

Pan. Then be fearless;

For if he were a thing 'twixt god and man,

I could gaze on him, − if I knew it sin

To love him, − without passion. Dry your eyes:

I swear you shall enjoy him still for me;

I will not hinder you. But I perceive

You are not what you seem: rise, rise, Thalestris,

If your right name be so.

Spa. [Rising] Indeed, it is not:

Spaconia is my name; but I desire

Not to be known to others.

Pan. Why, by me

You shall not; I will never do you wrong;

What good I can, I will: think not my birth

Or education such, that I should injure

A stranger-virgin. You are welcome hither.

In company you wish to be commanded;

But when we are alone, I shall be ready

To be your servant.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II, SCENE II.

Fields in the Neighborhood of the City.

A great Crowd.

Enter three Shop-Men and a Woman.

1st Shop-M. Come, come, run, run, run.

2nd Shop-M. We shall outgo her.

3rd Shop-M. One were better be hanged than carry

women out fiddling to these shows.

Wom. Is the king hard by?

1st Shop-M. You heard, he with the bottles said he

thought we should come too late. What abundance of

people here is!

Wom. But what had he in those bottles?

3rd Shop-M. I know not.

2nd Shop-M. Why, ink, goodman fool.

3rd Shop-M. Ink, what to do?

1st Shop-M. Why the king, look you, will many times

call for those bottles, and break his mind to his friends.

Wom. Let's take our places quickly; we shall have no

room else.

2nd Shop-M. The man told us, he would walk o'foot

through the people.

3rd Shop-M. Ay, marry, did he.

1st Shop-M. Our shops are well looked to now.

2nd Shop-M. 'Slife, yonder's my master, I think.

1st Shop-M. No, ‘tis not he.

Enter two Citizens' Wives, and Philip.

1st Cit.W. Lord, how fine the fields be! What sweet

living 'tis in the country!

2nd Cit.W. Ay, poor souls, God help 'em, they live as

contentedly as one of us.

1st Cit.W. My husband's cousin would have had me

gone into the country last year. Wert thou ever there?

2nd Cit.W. Ay, poor souls, I was amongst 'em once.

1st Cit.W. And what kind of creatures are they, for

love of God?

2nd Cit.W. Very good people, God help 'em.

1st Cit.W. Wilt thou go with me down this summer,

when I am brought to bed?

2nd Cit.W. Alas, tis no place for us!

1st Cit.W. Why, prithee?

2nd Cit.W. Why, you can have nothing there; there's

nobody cries brooms.

1st Cit.W. No!

2nd Cit.W. No, truly, nor milk.

1st Cit.W. Nor milk! how do they?

2nd Cit.W. They are fain to milk themselves i' the

country.

1st Cit.W. Good lord! But the people there, I think,

will be very dutiful to one of us.

2nd Cit.W. Ay, God knows, will they; and yet they do

not greatly care for our husbands.

1st Cit.W. Do they not? alas! i' good faith, I cannot

blame them, for we do not greatly care for them

ourselves. − Philip, I pray, choose us a place.

Phil. There's the best, forsooth.

1st Cit.W. By your leave, good people, a little.

1st Shop-M. What's the matter?

Phil. I pray you, my friend, do not thrust my mistress

so; she's with child.

2nd Shop-M. Let her look to herself, then; has she not

had thrusting enough yet? If she stay shouldering here,

she may hap to go home with a cake in her belly.

3rd Shop-M. How now, goodman squitter-breech!

why do you lean so on me?

Phil. Because I will.

3rd Shop-M. Will you, Sir Sauce-box?

[Strikes him.]

1st Cit.W. Look, if one ha' not struck Philip! – Come

hither, Philip; why did he strike thee?

Phil. For leaning on him.

1st Cit.W. Why didst thou lean on him?

Phil. I did not think he would have struck me.

1st Cit.W. As God save me, la, thou’rt as wild as a

buck; there's no quarrel, but thou art at one end or other

on't.

3rd Shop-M. It's at the first end, then, for he'll ne'er

stay the last.

1st Cit.W. Well, slip-string, I shall meet with you.

3rd Shop-M. When you will.

1st Cit.W. I'll give a crown to meet with you.

3rd Shop-M. At a bawdy-house.

1st Cit.W. Ay, you're full of your roguery; but if I do

meet you, it shall cost me a fall.

Flourish.

Enter a Man running.

Man. The king, the king, the king, the king! Now,

now, now, now!

Enter Arbaces, Tigranes, Mardonius, and Soldiers.

All. God preserve your majesty!

Arb. I thank you all. Now are my joys at full,

When I behold you safe, my loving subjects.

By you I grow; 'tis your united love

That lifts me to this height.

All the account that I can render you

For all the love you have bestowed on me,

All your expenses to maintain my war,

Is but a little word: you will imagine

'Tis slender payment; yet 'tis such a word

As is not to be bought without our bloods:

'Tis peace!

All. God preserve your majesty!

Arb. Now you may live securely in your towns,

Your children round about you; you may sit

Under your vines, and make the miseries

Of other kingdoms a discourse for you,

And lend them sorrows. For yourselves, you may

Safely forget there are such things as tears;

And may you all, whose good thoughts I have gained,

Hold me unworthy, when I think my life

A sacrifice too great to keep you thus

In such a calm estate!

All. God bless your majesty!

Arb. See, all good people, I have brought the man,

Whose very name you feared, a captive home:

Behold him; 'tis Tigranes! In your hearts

Sing songs of gladness and deliverance.

1st Cit.W. Out upon him!

2nd Cit.W. How he looks!

Wom. Hang him, hang him!

Mar. These are sweet people.

Tigr. Sir, you do me wrong,

To render me a scornèd spectacle

To common people.

Arb. It was far from me

To mean it so. − If I have aught deserved,

My loving subjects, let me beg of you

Not to revile this prince, in whom there dwells

All worth, of which the nature of a man

Is capable; valour beyond compare;

The terror of his name has stretched itself

Wherever there is sun: and yet for you

I fought with him single, and won him too;

I made his valour stoop, and brought that name,

Soared to so unbelieved a height, to fall

Beneath mine: this inspired with all your loves,

I did perform; and will, for your content,

Be ever ready for a greater work.

All. The Lord bless your majesty!

Tigr. [Aside] So, he has made me

Amends now with a speech in commendation

Of himself; I would not be so vain-glorious.

Arb. If there be anything in which I may

Do good to any creature here, speak out;

For I must leave you: and it troubles me,

That my occasions, for the good of you,

Are such as call me from you: else my joy

Would be to spend my days amongst you all.

You show your loves in these large multitudes

That come to meet me. I will pray for you:

Heaven prosper you, that you may know old years,

And live to see your children's children

Sit at your boards with plenty! When there is

A want of anything, let it be known

To me, and I will be a father to you:

God keep you all!

All. God bless your majesty, God bless your majesty!

[Flourish. Exeunt Arbaces, Tigranes,

Mardonius, and Soldiers.]

1st Shop-M. Come, shall we go? all's done.

Wom. Ay, for God's sake: I have not made a fire yet.

2nd Shop-M. Away, away! all's done.

3rd Shop-M. Content. − Farewell, Philip.

1st Cit.W. Away, you halter-sack, you!

2nd Shop-M. Philip will not fight; he's afraid on's face.

Phil. Ay, marry; am I afraid of my face?

3rd Shop-M. Thou wouldst be Philip, if thou sawest it

in a glass: it looks so like a visor.

1st Cit.W. You'll be hanged, sirrah.

[Exeunt the three Shop-Men and Woman.]

Come Philip, walk afore us homewards. − Did not his

majesty say he had brought us home peas for all our

money?

2nd Cit.W. Yes marry, did he.

1st Cit.W. They're the first I heard on this year, by my

troth. I longed for some of 'em. Did he not say, we

should have some?

2nd Cit.W. Yes, and so we shall anon, I warrant you,

have every one a peck brought home to our houses.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter Arbaces And Gobrias.

Arb. My sister take it ill!

Gob. Not very ill;

Something unkindly she does take it, sir,

To have her husband chosen to her hands.

Arb. Why, Gobrias, let her: I must have her know,

My will, and not her own, must govern her.

What, will she marry with some slave at home?

Gob. Oh, she is far from any stubbornness!

You much mistake her: and no doubt will like

Where you will have her: but, when you behold her,

You will be loth to part with such a jewel.

Arb. To part with her! why, Gobrias, art thou mad?

She is my sister.

Gob. Sir, I know she is:

But it were a pity to make poor our land,

With such a beauty to enrich another.

Arb. Pish! Will she have him?

Gob. [Aside] I do hope she will not. −

I think she will, sir.

Arb. Were she my father and my mother too,

And all the names for which we think folks friends,

She should be forced to have him, when I know

'Tis fit. I will not hear her say she's loth.

Gob. [Aside] Heaven, bring my purpose luckily to pass!

You know 'tis just. − She will not need constraint,

She loves you so.

Arb. How does she love me? Speak.

Gob. She loves you more than people love their health,

That live by labour; more than I could love

A man that died for me, if he could live

Again.

Arb. She is not like her mother, then.

Gob. Oh, no! When you were in Armenia,

I durst not let her know when you were hurt;

For at the first, on every little scratch,

She kept her chamber, wept, and could not eat

Till you were well; and many times the news

Was so long coming, that, before we heard,

She was as near her death as you your health.

Arb. Alas, poor soul! But yet she must be ruled:

I know not how I shall requite her well.

I long to see her: have you sent for her,

To tell her I am ready?

Gob. Sir, I have.

Enter a Gentleman and Tigranes.

Gent. Sir, here is the Armenian king.

Arb. He's welcome.

Gent. And the queen-mother and the princess wait

Without.

Arb. Good Gobrias, bring 'em in.−

[Exit Gobrias.]

Tigranes, you will think you are arrived

In a strange land, where mothers cast to poison

Their only sons: think you, you shall be safe?

Tigr. Too safe I am, sir.

Re-enter Gobrias, with Aranes, Panthea, Spaconia,

Bacurius, Mardonius, Bessus, and two Gentlemen.

Arane. [Kneels] As low as this I bow to you; and would

As low as is my grave, to show a mind

Thankful for all your mercies.

Arb. Oh, stand up,

And let me kneel! the light will be ashamed

To see observance done to me by you.

Arane. You are my king.

Arb. You are my mother: rise.

[Raises her.]

As far be all your faults from your own soul

As from my memory! then you shall be

As white as Innocence herself.

Arane. I came

Only to show my duty, and acknowledge

My sorrows for my sins: longer to stay,

Were but to draw eyes more attentively

Upon my shame. That power, that kept you safe

From me, preserve you still!

Arb. Your own desires

Shall be your guide.

[Exit Arane.]

Pan. Now let me die!

Since I have seen my lord the king return

In safety, I have seen all good that life

Can show me: I have ne'er another wish

For Heaven to grant; nor were it fit I should;

For I am bound to spend my age to come

In giving thanks that this was granted me.

Gob. Why does not your majesty speak?

Arb. To whom?

Gob. To the princess.

Pan. Alas, sir, I am fearful you do look

On me as if I were some loathèd thing,

That you were finding out a way to shun!

Gob. Sir, you should speak to her.

Arb. Ha!

Pan. I know I am unworthy, yet not ill-

Armed with which innocence, here I will kneel

Till I am one with earth, but I will gain

Some words and kindness from you.

[Kneels.]

Gob. Will you speak, sir?

Arb. [Aside] Speak! am I what I was?

What art thou, that dost creep into my breast,

And dar'st not see my face? Show forth thyself.

I feel a pair of fiery wings displayed

Hither, from thence. You shall not tarry there;

Up, and begone; if you be'st Love, begone!

Or I will tear thee from my wounded flesh,

Pull thy loved down away, and with a quill,

By this right arm drawn from thy wanton wing,

Write to thy laughing mother in thy blood,

That you are powers belied, and all your darts

Are to be blown away by men resolved,

Like dust. I know thou fear'st my words: away!

Tigr. [Aside] Oh, misery! why should he be so slow?

There can no falsehood come of loving her:

Though I have given my faith, she is a thing

Both to be loved and served beyond my faith.

I would he would present me to her quickly.

Pan. Will you not speak at all? are you so far

From kind words? Yet, to save my modesty,

That must talk till you answer, do not stand

As you were dumb; say something, though it be

Poisoned with anger, that may strike me dead.

Mar. Have you no life at all? For manhood sake,

Let her not kneel, and talk neglected thus.

A tree would find a tongue to answer her,

Did she but give it such a loved respect.

Arb. You mean this lady: lift her from the earth;

Why do you let her kneel so long? – Alas,

[They raise Panthea.]

Madam, your beauty uses to command,

And not to beg! what is your suit to me?

It shall be granted; yet the time is short,

And my affairs are great. − But where's my sister?

I bade she should be brought.

Mar. [Aside] What, is he mad?

Arb. Gobrias, where is she?

Gob. Sir!

Arb. Where is she, man?

Gob. Who, sir?

Arb. Who! hast thou forgot? my sister.

Gob. Your sister, sir!

Arb. Your sister, sir! Some one that hath a wit,

Answer, where is she?

Gob. Do you not see her there?

Arb. Where?

Gob. There.

Arb. There! where?

Mar. 'Slight, there: are you blind?

Arb. Which do you mean? that little one?

Gob. No, sir.

Arb. No, sir! Why, do you mock me? I can see

No other here but that petitioning lady.

Gob. That's she.

Arb. Away!

Gob. Sir, it is she.

Arb. 'Tis false.

Gob. Is it?

Arb. As hell! By Heaven, as false as hell!

My sister! − Is she dead? If it be so,

Speak boldly to me, for I am a man,

And dare not quarrel with divinity;

And do not think to cozen me with this.

I see you all are mute, and stand amazed,

Fearful to answer me: it is too true;

A decreed instant cuts off every life,

For which to mourn is to repine: she died

A virgin though, more innocent than sleep,

As clear as her own eyes; and blessedness

Eternal waits upon her where she is:

I know she could not make a wish to change

Her state for new; and you shall see me bear

My crosses like a man. We all must die;

And she has taught us how.

Gob. Do not mistake,

And vex yourself for nothing; for her death

Is a long life off yet, I hope. 'Tis she;

And if my speech deserve not faith, lay death

Upon me, and my latest words shall force

A credit from you.

Arb. Which, good Gobrias?

That lady dost thou mean?

Gob. That lady, sir:

She is your sister; and she is your sister

That loves you so; 'tis she for whom I weep,

To see you use her thus.

Arb. It cannot be.

Tigr. [Aside] Pish! this is tedious:

I cannot hold; I must present myself:

And yet the sight of my Spaconia

Touches me as a sudden thunder-clap

Does one that is about to sin.

Arb. Away!

No more of this. Here I pronounce him traitor,

The direct plotter of my death, that names

Or thinks her for my sister: 'tis a lie,

The most malicious of the world, invented

To mad your king. He that will say so next,

Let him draw out his sword, and sheathe it here;

It is a sin fully as pardonable.

She is no kin to me, nor shall she be:

If she were ever, I create her none:

And which of you can question this? My power

Is like the sea, that is to be obeyed,

And not disputed with: I have decreed her

As far from having part of blood with me

As the naked Indians. Come and answer me,

He that is boldest now: is that my sister?

Mar. [Aside] Oh, this is fine!

Bes. No, marry, she is not, an't please your majesty;

I never thought she was; she's nothing like you.

Arb. No; 'tis true, she is not.

Mar. [To Bessus] Thou shouldst be hang'd.

Pan. Sir, I will speak but once. By the same power

You make my blood a stranger unto yours,

You may command me dead; and so much love

A stranger may impórtune; pray you, do.

If this request appear too much to grant,

Adopt me of some other family

By your unquestioned word; else I shall live

Like sinful issues, that are left in streets

By their regardless mothers, and no name

Will be found for me.

Arb. I will hear no more. −

Why should there be such music in a voice,

And sin for me to hear it? All the world

May take delight in this; and 'tis damnation

For me to do so. − You are fair and wise,

And virtuous, I think; and he is blessed

That is so near you as your brother is:

But you are naught to me but a disease,

Continual torment without hope of ease.

Such an ungodly sickness I have got,

That he that undertakes my cure must first

O'erthrow divinity, all moral laws,

And leave mankind as unconfined as beasts,

Allowing them to do all actiöns

As freely as they drink when they desire.

Let me not hear you speak again; yet so

I shall but languish for the want of that,

The having which would kill me. − No man here

Offer to speak for her; for I consider

As much as you can say. I will not toil

My body and my mind too; rest thou there;

Here's one within will labour for you both.

Pan. I would I were past speaking!

Gob. Fear not, madam;

The king will alter: 'tis some sudden rage,

And you shall see it end some other way.

Pan. Pray Heaven it do!

Tigr. [Aside]

Though she to whom I swore be here, I cannot

Stifle my passion longer; if my father

Should rise again, disquieted with this,

And charge me to forbear, yet it would out −

Madam, a stranger and a prisoner begs

To be bid welcome.

Pan. You are welcome, sir,

I think; but if you be not, 'tis past me

To make you so; for I am here a stranger

Greater than you: we know from whence you come;

But I appear a lost thing, and by whom

Is yet uncertain; found here in the court,

And only suffered to walk up and down,

As one not worth the owning.

Spa. [Aside] Oh, I fear

Tigranes will be caught! he looks, methinks,

As he would change his eyes with her. Some help

There is above for me, I hope!

Tigr. Why do you turn away, and weep so fast,

And utter things that misbecome your looks?

Can you want owning?

Spa. [Aside] Oh, 'tis certain so.

Tigr. Acknowledge yourself mine.

Arb. How now?

Tigr. And then

See if you want an owner.

Arb. They are talking!

Tigr. Nations shall own you for their queen.

Arb. Tigranes, art not thou my prisoner?

Tigr. I am.

Arb. And who is this?

Tigr. She is your sister.

Arb. She is so.

Mar. [Aside] Is she so again? that's well.

Arb. And how, then, dare you offer to change words with her?

Tigr. Dare do it! Why, you brought me hither, sir,

To that intent.

Arb. Perhaps I told you so:

If I had sworn it, had you so much folly

To credit it? The least word that she speaks

Is worth a life. Rule your disordered tongue,

Or I will temper it.

Spa. [Aside] Blest be that breath!

Tigr. Temper my tongue! Such incivilities

As these no barbarous people ever knew:

You break the laws of nature, and of nations;

You talk to me as if I were a prisoner

For theft. My tongue be tempered! I must speak,

If thunder check me, and I will.

Arb. You will!

Spa. [Aside] Alas, my fortune!

Tigr. Do not fear his frown.

Dear madam, hear me.

Arb. Fear not my frown? But that 'twere base in me

To fight with one I know I can o'ercome,

Again thou shouldst be conquerèd by me.

Mar. [Aside] He has one ransom with him already;

methinks, 'twere good to fight double or quit.

Arb. Away with him to prison! − Now, sir, see

If my frown be regardless. − Why delay you?

Seize him, Bacurius! − You shall know my word

Sweeps like a wind, and all it grapples with

Are as the chaff before it.

Tigr. Touch me not.

Arb. Help there!

Tigr. Away!

1st Gent. It is in vain to struggle.

2nd Gent. You must be forced.

Bac. Sir, you must pardon us;

We must obey.

Arb. Why do you dally there?

Drag him away by any thing.

Bac. Come, sir.

Tigr. Justice, thou ought'st to give me strength enough

To shake all these off. − This is tyranny,

Arbaces, subtler than the burning bull's,

Or that famed tyrant's bed. Thou might'st as well

Search i' the deep of winter through the snow

For half-starved people, to bring home with thee

To show 'em fire and send 'em back again,

As use me thus.

Arb. Let him be close, Bacurius.

[Exit Tigranes, led off by Bacurius

and two Gentlemen.]

Spa. [Aside] I ne'er rejoiced at any ill to him

But this imprisonment: what shall become

Of me forsaken?

Gob. You will not let your sister

Depart thus discontented from you, sir?

Arb. By no means, Gobrias: I have done her wrong,

And made myself believe much of myself

That is not in me. − You did kneel to me,

Whilst I stood stubborn and regardless by,

And, like a god incensèd, gave no ear

To all your prayers.

[Kneels.]

Behold, I kneel to you:

Show a contempt as large as was my own,

And I will suffer it; yet, at the last,

Forgive me.

Pan. Oh, you wrong me more in this

Than in your rage you did! you mock me now.

[Kneels.]

Arb. Never forgive me, then; which is the worst

Can happen to me.

Pan. If you be in earnest,

Stand up, and give me but a gentle look

And two kind words, and I shall be in Heaven.

Arb. Rise you, then, too. Here I acknowledge thee,

[Rising, and raising Panthea.]

My hope, the only jewèl of my life,

The best of sisters, dearer than my breath,

A happiness as high as I could think:

And when my actions call thee otherwise,

Perdition light upon me!

Pan. This is better

Than if you had not frowned; it comes to me

Like mercy at the block: and when I leave

To serve you with my life, your curse be with me!

Arb. Then, thus I do salute thee; and again,

[Kisses her.]

To make this knot the stronger. − [Aside] Paradise

Is there! − It may be you are yet in doubt;

This third kiss blots it out. − [Aside] I wade in sin,

And foolishly entice myself along! −

Take her away; see her a prisoner

In her own chamber, closely, Gobrias.

Pan. Alas, sir, why?

Arb. I must not stay the answer. –

Do it.

Gob. Good sir!

Arb. No more: do it, I say.

Mar. [Aside] This is better and better.

Pan. Yet, hear me speak.

Arb. I will not hear you speak. −

Away with her! Let no man think to speak

For such a creature; for she is a witch,

A poisoner, and a traitor!

Gob. Madam, this office grieves me.

Pan. Nay, 'tis well;

The king is pleased with it.

Arb. Bessus, go you along too with her. I will prove

All this that I have said, if I may live

So long: but I am desperately sick;

For she has given me poison in a kiss, −

She had it 'twixt her lips, − and with her eyes

She witches people. Go, without a word!

[Exeunt Gobrias, Panthea, Bessus,

and Spaconia.]

Why should you, that have made me stand in war

Like Fate itself, cutting what threads I pleased,

Decree such an unworthy end of me

And all my glories? What am I, alas,

That you oppose me? If my secret thoughts

Have ever harboured swellings against you,

They could not hurt you; and it is in you

To give me sorrow, that will render me

Apt to receive your mercy: rather so,

Let it be rather so, than punish me

With such unmanly sins. Incest is in me

Dwelling already; and it must be holy,

That pulls it thence. − Where art, Mardonius?

Mar. Here, sir.

Arb. I prithee, bear me, if thou canst.

Am I not grown a strange weight?

Mar. As you were.

Arb. No heavier?

Mar. No, sir.

Arb. Why, my legs

Refuse to bear my body! Oh, Mardonius,

Thou hast in field beheld me, when thou know'st

I could have gone, though I could never run!

Mar. And so I shall again.

Arb. Oh, no, ‘tis past.

Mar. Pray you, go rest yourself.

Arb. Wilt thou hereafter, when they talk of me,

As thou shalt hear, nothing but infamy,

Remember some of those things?

Mar. Yes, I will.

Arb. I prithee, do; for thou shalt never see

Me so again.

Mar. I warrant ye.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE II.

A Room in the House of Bessus.

Enter Bessus.

Bes. They talk of fame; I have gotten it in the wars,

and will afford any man a reasonable pennyworth.

Some will say, they could be content to have it, but

that it is to be achieved with danger: but my opinion is

otherwise: for if I might stand still in cannon-proof,

and have fame fall upon me, I would refuse it. My

reputation came principally by thinking to run away;

which nobody knows but Mardonius, and I think he

conceals it to anger me. Before I went to the wars, I

came to the town a young fellow, without means or

parts to deserve friends; and my empty guts persuaded

me to lie, and abuse people, for my meat; which I did,

and they beat me: then would I fast two days, till my

hunger cried out on me, "Rail still!" Then, methought,

I had a monstrous stomach to abuse 'em again; and

did it. In this state I continued, till they hung me up by

the heels, and beat me with hazel-sticks, as if they

would have baked me, and have cozened somebody

with me for venison. After this I railed, and eat quietly;

for the whole kingdom took notice of me for a baffled

whipped fellow, and what I said was remembered in

mirth, but never in anger; of which I was glad. − I would

it were at that pass again! After this, Heaven called an

aunt of mine, that left two hundred pounds in a

cousin's hand for me; who, taking me to be a gallant

young spirit, raised a company for me with the money,

and sent me into Armenia with 'em. Away I would

have run from them, but that I could get no company;

and alone I durst not run. I was never at battle but

once, and there I was running, but Mardonius cudgelled

me: yet I got loose at last, but was so afraid that

I saw no more than my shoulders do, but fled with

my whole company amongst my enemies, and

overthrew 'em: now the report of my valour is come

over before me, and they say I was a raw young

fellow, but now I am improved: − a plague on their

eloquence! 'twill cost me many a beating: and

Mardonius might help this too, if he would; for now

they think to get honour on me, and all the men I

have abused call me freshly to account, (worthily,

as they call it) by the way of challenge.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gent. Good-morrow, Captain Bessus.

Bes. Good-morrow, sir.

Gent. I come to speak with you −

Bes. You're very welcome.

Gent. From one that holds himself wronged by you

some three years since. Your worth, he says, is famed,

and he doth nothing doubt but you will do him right, as

beseems a soldier.

Bes. [Aside] A pox on 'em, so they cry all!

Gent. And a slight note I have about me for you, for

the delivery of which you must excuse me: it is an office

that friendship calls upon me to do, and no way

offensive to you, since I desire but right on both sides.

[Gives him a letter.]

Bes. 'Tis a challenge, sir, is it not?

Gent. 'Tis an inviting to the field.

Bes. [Aside] An inviting? Oh, cry you mercy! − What a

compliment he delivers it with! he might as agreeably to

my nature present me poison with such a speech.

[Reads.]

Um, um, um − reputation − um, um, um − call

you to account − um um, um − forced to this − um, um,

um − with my sword − um, um, um − like a gentleman

− um, um, um − dear to me − um, um, um −

satisfaction. – 'Tis very well, sir; I do accept it; but he

must wait an answer this thirteen weeks.

Gent. Why, sir, he would be glad to wipe off his

stain as soon as he could.

Bes. Sir, upon my credit, I am already engaged to two

hundred and twelve; all which must have their stains

wiped off, if that be the word, before him.

Gent. Sir, if you be truly engaged but to one, he shall

stay a competent time.

Bes. Upon my faith, sir, to two hundred and twelve:

and I have a spent body too, much bruised in battle; so

that I cannot fight, I must be plain with you, above

three combats a-day. All the kindness I can show him,

is to set him resolvedly in my roll the two hundred and

thirteenth man, which is something; for, I tell you, I

think there will be more after him than before him; I

think so. Pray you commend me to him, and tell him

this.

Gent. I will, sir. Good-morrow to you.

[Exit Gentleman.]

Bes. Good-morrow, good sir. − Certainly, my safest way

were to print myself a coward, with a discovery how I

came by my credit, and clap it upon every post. I have

received above thirty challenges within this two hours:

Marry, all but the first I put off with engagement; and,

by good fortune, the first is no madder of fighting than I;

so that that's referred: the place where it must be ended

is four days' journey off, and our arbitrators are these; he

has chosen a gentleman in travel, and I have a special

friend with a quartan ague, like to hold him this five

years, for mine; and when his man comes home, we are

to expect my friend's health. If they would send me

challenges thus thick, as long as I lived, I would have no

other living: I can make seven shillings a-day o' th' paper

to the grocers. Yet I learn nothing by all these, but a

little skill in comparing of styles: I do find evidently that

there is some one scrivener in this town, that has a great

hand in writing of challenges, for they are all of a cut,

and six of 'em in a hand; and they all end, "My

reputation is dear to me, and I must require satisfaction."

− Who's there? more paper, I hope. No; 'tis my lord

Bacurius: I fear all is not well betwixt us.

Enter Bacurius.

Bac. Now, Captain Bessus! I come about a frivolous

matter, caused by as idle a report: you know, you were

a coward.

Bes. Very right.

Bac. And wronged me.

Bes. True, my lord.

Bac. But now, people will call you valiant; −

desertlessly, I think; yet, for their satisfaction, I will

have you fight with me.

Bes. Oh, my good lord, my deep engagements −

Bac. Tell not me of your engagements, Captain Bessus!

It is not to be put off with an excuse. For my own part, I

am none of the multitude that believe your conversion

from coward.

Bes. My lord, I seek not quarrels, and this belongs not

to me; I am not to maintain it.

Bac. Who, then, pray?

Bes. Bessus the coward wronged you.

Bac. Right.

Bes. And shall Bessus the valiant maintain what

Bessus the coward did?

Bac. I prithee, leave these cheating tricks! I swear

thou shalt fight with me, or thou shalt be beaten

extremely and kicked.

Bes. Since you provoke me thus far, my lord, I will

fight with you; and, by my sword, it shall cost me

twenty pounds but I will have my leg well a week

sooner purposely.

Bac. Your leg! why, what ail's your leg? I'll do a cure

on you. Stand up!

[Kicks him.]

Bes. My lord, this is not noble in you.

Bac. What dost thou with such a phrase in thy mouth?

I will kick thee out of all good words before I leave thee.

[Kicks him.]

Bes. My lord, I take this as a punishment for the

offence I did when I was a coward.

Bac. When thou wert! confess thyself a coward still,

or, by this light, I'll beat thee into sponge.

Bes. Why, I am one.

Bac. Are you so, sir? and why do you wear a sword,

then? Come, unbuckle; quick!

Bes. My lord!

Bac. Unbuckle, I say, and give it me; or, as I live, thy

head will ache extremely.

Bes. It is a pretty hilt; and if your lordship take an

affection to it, with all my heart I present it to you, for a

new-year's gift.

[Gives him his sword, with a knife in the scabbard.]

Bac. I thank you very heartily. Sweet captain, farewell.

Bes. One word more: I beseech your lordship to render

me my knife again.

Bac. Marry, by all means, captain. [Gives him back

the knife.] Cherish yourself with it, and eat hard,

good captain; we cannot tell whether we shall have

any more such. Adieu, dear captain.

[Exit.]

Bes. I will make better use of this than of my sword.

A base spirit has this vantage of a brave one; it keeps

always at a stay, nothing brings it down, not beating. I

remember I promised the king, in a great audience, that I

would make my backbiters eat my sword to a knife:

How to get another sword I know not; nor know any

means left for me to maintain my credit but impudence:

Therefore I will outswear him and all his followers, that

this is all that's left uneaten of my sword.

[Exit.]

ACT III, SCENE III.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Mardonius.

Mar. I'll move the king; he is most strangely altered:

I guess the cause, I fear, too right; Heaven has

Some secret end in't, and 'tis a scourge, no question,

Justly laid upon him. He has followed me

Through twenty rooms; and ever, when I stay

To wait his command, he blushes like a girl,

And looks upon me as if modesty

Kept in his business; so turns away from me;

But, if I go on, he follows me again.

Enter Arbaces.

See, here he is. I do not use this, yet,

I know not how, I cannot choose but weep

To see him: his very enemies, I think,

Whose wounds have bred his fame, if they should see

Him now, would find tears in their eyes.

Arb. I cannot utter it! Why should I keep

A breast to harbour thoughts I dare not speak?

Darkness is in my bosom; and there lie

A thousand thoughts that cannot brook the light. −

How wilt thou vex me, when this deed is done,

Conscience, that art afraid to let me name it!

Mar. How do you, sir?

Arb. Why very well, Mardonius.

How dost thou do?

Mar. Better than you, I fear.

Arb. I hope thou art; for, to be plain with thee,

Thou art in hell else. Secret scorching flames,

That far transcend earthly material fires,

Are crept into me, and there is no cure:

Is it not strange, Mardonius, there's no cure?

Mar. Sir, either I mistake, or there is something hid,

That you would utter to me.

Arb. So there is:

But yet I cannot do it.

Mar. Out with it, sir.

If it be dangerous, I will not shrink

To do you service. I shall not esteem

My life a weightier matter than indeed

It is. I know 'tis subject to more chances

Than it has hours; and I were better lose it

In my king's cause than with an ague or

A fall, or, sleeping, to a thief; as all these

Are probable enough. Let me but know

What I shall do for you.

Arb. It will not out. Were you with Gobrias,

And bade him give my sister all content

The place affords, and give her leave to send

And speak to whom she please?

Mar. Yes, sir, I was.

Arb. And did you to Bacurius say as much

About Tigranes?

Mar. Yes.

Arb. That's all my business.

Mar. Oh, say not so!

You had an answer of all this before:

Besides, I think this business might be uttered

More carelessly.

Arb. Come, thou shalt have it out. I do beseech thee,

By all the love thou hast professed to me,

To see my sister from me.

Mar. Well; and what?

Arb. That's all.

Mar. That's strange: Shall I say nothing to her?

Arb. Not a word:

But, if thou lov'st me, find some subtle way

To make her understand by signs.

Mar. But what shall I make her understand?

Arb. Oh, Mardonius, for that I must be pardoned.

Mar. You may; but I can only see her then.

Arb. 'Tis true.

[Gives him a ring.]

Bear her this ring, then; and, on more advice,

Thou shalt speak to her: tell her I do love

My kindred all; wilt thou?

Mar. Is there no more?

Arb. Oh, yes! And her the best;

Better than any brother loves his sister:

That's all.

Mar. Methinks, this need not have been

Delivered with such cautiön. I'll do it.

Arb. There is more yet: wilt thou be faithful to me?

Mar. Sir, if I take upon me to deliver it,

After I hear it, I'll pass through fire to do it.

Arb. I love her better than a brother ought.

Dost thou conceive me?

Mar. I hope I do not, sir.

Arb. No! thou art dull. Kneel down before her,

And never rise again, till she will love me.

Mar. Why, I think she does.

Arb. But, better than she does

Another way; as wives love husbands.

Mar. Why,

I think there are few wives that love their husbands

Better than she does you.

Arb. Thou wilt not understand me. Is it fit

This should be uttered plainly? Take it, then,

Naked as it is; I would desire her love

Lasciviously, lewdly, incestuously,

To do a sin that needs must damn us both,

And thee too. Dost thou understand me now?

Mar. Yes; there's your ring again.

[Gives back the ring.] What have I done

Dishonestly in my whole life, name it,

That you should put so base a business to me?

Arb. Didst thou not tell me thou wouldst do it?

Mar. Yes, if I undertook it: but if all

My hairs were lives, I would not be engaged

In such a cause to save my last life.

Arb. Oh, Guilt, how poor and weak a thing art thou!

This man that is my servant, whom my breath

Might blow about the world, might beat me here,

Having his cause; whilst I, pressed down with sin,

Could not resist him. − Dear, Mardonius,

It was a motion misbeseeming man,

And I am sorry for it.

Mar. Pray God you may be so! You must

understand, nothing that you can utter can remove

my love and service from my prince; but otherwise,

I think I shall not love you more, for you are sinful;

and, if you do this crime, you ought to have no laws,

for, after this, it will be great injustice in you to

punish any offender for any crime. For myself, I

find my heart too big; I feel I have not patience to

look on, whilst you run these forbidden courses.

Means I have none but your favour; and I am rather

glad that I shall lose 'em both together than keep

'em with such conditions. I shall find a dwelling

amongst some people, where, though our garments

perhaps be coarser, we shall be richer far within,

and harbour no such vices in 'em. God preserve

you, and mend you!

Arb. Mardonius! Stay, Mardonius! for, though

My present state requires nothing but knaves

To be about me, such as are prepared

For every wicked act, yet who does know

But that my loathèd fate may turn about,

And I have use for honest men again?

I hope I may: I prithee, leave me not.

Enter Bessus.

Bes. Where is the king?

Mar. There.

Bes. An't please your majesty, there's the knife.

Arb. What knife?

Bes. The sword is eaten.

Mar. Away, you fool! the king is serious,

And cannot now admit your vanities.

Bes. Vanities! I'm no honest man, if my enemies have

not brought it to this. What, do you think I lie?

Arb. No, no; 'tis well, Bessus; tis very well:

I'm glad on't.

Mar. If your enemies brought it to this, your enemies

are cutlers. Come, leave the king.

Bes. Why, may not valour approach him?

Mar. Yes; but he has affairs. Depart, or I shall be

something unmannerly with you.

Arb. No; let him stay, Mardonius, let him stay;

I have occasions with him very weighty,

And I can spare you now.

Mar. Sir?

Arb. Why, I can spare you now.

Bes. Mardonius, give way to the state affairs.

Mar. Indeed, you are fitter for his present purpose.

[Exit.]

Arb. Bessus, I should employ thee: wilt thou do't?

Bes. Do't for you? By this air, I will do anything,

without exception, be it a good, bad, or indifferent thing.

Arb. Do not swear.

Bes. By this light, but I will; anything whatsoever.

Arb. But I shall name a thing

Thy conscience will not suffer thee to do.

Bes. I would fain hear that thing.

Arb. Why, I would have thee get my sister for me, −

Thou understand'st me, − in a wicked manner.

Bes. Oh, you would have a bout with her? I'll do't, I'll

do't, i'faith.

Arb. Wilt thou? dost thou make no more on't?

Bes. More? No. Why, is there anything else? If there

be, tell me; it shall be done too.

Arb. Hast thou no greater sense of such a sin?

Thou art too wicked for my company,

Though I have hell within me, and may'st yet

Corrupt me further. Pray thee, answer me,

How do I show to thee after this motion?

Bes. Why, your majesty looks as well, in my opinion,

as ever you did since you were born.

Arb. But thou appear'st to me, after thy grant,

The ugliest, loathèd, détestable thing,

That I have ever met with. Thou hast eyes

Like flames of sulphur, which, methinks, do dart

Infection on me; and thou hast a mouth

Enough to take me in, where there do stand

Four rows of iron teeth.

Bes. I feel no such thing: but 'tis no matter how I look;

I'll do your business as well as they that look better:

and when this is dispatched, if you have a mind to

your mother, tell me, and you shall see I'll set it hard.

Arb. My mother? − Heaven forgive me, to hear this!

I am inspired with horror. − Now I hate thee

Worse than my sin; which, if I could come by,

Should suffer death eternal, ne'er to rise

In any breast again. Know, I will die

Languishing mad, as I resolve I shall,

Ere I will deal by such an instrument.

Thou art too sinful to employ in this:

Out of the world, away!

[Beats him.]

Bes. What do you mean, sir?

Arb. Hung round with curses, take thy fearful flight

Into the deserts; where, ‘mongst all the monsters,

If thou find'st one so beastly as thyself,

Thou shalt be held as innocent!

Bes. Good sir −

Arb. If there were no such instruments as thou,

We kings could never act such wicked deeds.

Seek out a man that mocks divinity,

That breaks each precept both of God and man,

And nature’s too, and does it without lust,

Merely because it is a law and good,

And live with him; for him thou can'st not spoil;

Away, I say ! −

[Exit Bessus.]

I will not do this sin:

I'll press it here, till it do break my breast.

It heaves to get out; but thou art a sin,

And, spite of torture, I will keep thee in.

[Exit.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Room in the House of Gobrias.

Enter Gobrias, Panthea, and Spaconia.

Gob. Have you written, madam?

Pan. Yes, good Gobrias.

Gob. And with a kindness and such winning words

As may provoke him, at one instant, feel

His double fault; your wrong, and his own rashness?

Pan. I have sent words enough, if words may win him

From his displeasure; and such words, I hope,

As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias.

Yet fearing, since they are many, and a woman's,

A poor belief may follow, I have woven

As many truths within 'em to speak for me,

That, if he be but gracious and receive 'em −

Gob. Good lady, be not fearful: though he should not

Give you your present end in this, believe it,

You shall feel, if your virtue can induce you

To labour out this tempest (which, I know,

Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience),

All those conténts your spirit will arrive at,

Newer and sweeter to you. Your royal brother,

When he shall once collect himself, and see

How far he has been asunder from himself,

What a mere stranger to his golden temper,

Must, from those roots of virtue, never dying,

Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again

Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches

High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice,

Loaden with ripe conténts. He loves you dearly:

I know it, and I hope I need not further

Win you to understand it.

Pan. I believe it:

Howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly;

So dearly, that if anything I write

For my enlarging should beget his anger,

Heaven be a witness with me, and my faith,

I had rather live entombèd here.

Gob. You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief;

I am sorry 'tis so sharp. I kiss your hand,

And this night will deliver this true story

With this hand to your brother.

Pan. Peace go with you!

You are a good man. −

[Exit Gobrias.]

My Spaconia,

Why are you ever sad thus?

Spa. Oh, dear lady!

Pan. Prithee, discover not a way to sadness,

Nearer than I have in me. Our two sorrows

Work, like two eager hawks, who shall get highest.

How shall I lessen thine? for mine, I fear,

Is easier known than cured.

Spa. Heaven comfort both,

And give yours happy ends, however I

Fall in my stubborn fortunes.

Pan. This but teaches

How to be more familiar with our sorrows,

That are too much our masters. Good Spaconia,

How shall I do you service?

Spa. Noblest lady,

You make me more a slave still to your goodness,

And only live to purchase thanks to pay you;

For that is all the business of my life now.

I will be bold, since you will have it so,

To ask a noble favour of you.

Pan. Speak it; 'tis yours; for from so sweet a virtue

No ill demand has issue.

Spa. Then, ever-virtuous, let me beg your will

In helping me to see the prince Tigranes,

With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.

Pan. Reserve me to a greater end, Spaconia;

Bacurius cannot want so much good manners

As to deny your gentle visitation,

Though you came only with your own command.

Spa. I know they will deny me, gracious madam,

Being a stranger, and so little famed,

So utter empty of those excellencies

That tame authority: but in you, sweet lady,

All these are natural; beside, a power

Derived immediate from your royal brother,

Whose least word in you may command the kingdom.

Pan. More than my word, Spaconia, you shall carry,

For fear it fail you.

Spa. Dare you trust a token?

Madam, I fear I am grown too bold a beggar.

Pan. You are a pretty one; and, trust me, lady,

It joys me I shall do a good to you,

Though to myself I never shall be happy.

Here, take this ring, and from me as a token

[Gives ring.]

Deliver it: I think they will not stay you.

So, all your own desires go with you, lady!

Spa. And sweet peace to your grace!

Pan. Pray Heaven, I find it!

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE II.

A Prison.

Tigranes is discovered.

Tigr. Fool that I am! I have undone myself,

And with my own hand turned my fortune round,

That was a fair one: I have childishly

Played with my hope so long, till I have broke it,

And now too late I mourn for't. Oh, Spaconia,

Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now!

Why didst thou follow me, like a faint shadow,

To wither my desires? But, wretched fool,

Why did I plant thee 'twixt the sun and me,

To make me freeze thus? why did I prefer her

To the fair princess? Oh, thou fool, thou fool,

Thou family of fools, live like a slave still,

And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment!

Thou hast deserved it. Couldst thou find no lady,

But she that has thy hopes, to put her to,

And hazard all thy peace? none to abuse,

But she that loved thee ever, poor Spaconia?

And so much loved thee, that in honesty

And honour thou art bound to meet her virtues!

She, that forgot the greatness of her griefs,

And miseries that must follow such mad passions,

Endless and wild as woman’s! she, that for thee,

And with thee, left her liberty, her name,

And country! You have paid me, equal Heavens,

And sent my own rod to correct me with,

A woman! For inconstancy I'll suffer;

Lay it on, justice, till my soul melt in me,

For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting

Upon a new face, after all my oaths,

Many, and strange ones.

I feel my old fire flame again, and burn

So strong and violent, that, should I see her

Again, the grief and that would kill me.

Enter Bacurius and Spaconia.

Bac. Lady,

Your token I acknowledge; you may pass:

There is the king.

Spa. I thank your lordship for it.

[Exit Bacurius.]

Tigr. She comes, she comes! Shame hide me ever from her!

Would I were buried, or so far removed,

Light might not find me out! I dare not see her.

Spa. Nay, never hide yourself! For, were you hid

Where earth hides all her riches, near her centre,

My wrongs, without more day, would light me to you:

I must speak ere I die. Were all your greatness

Doubled upon you, you're a perjured man,

And only mighty in your wickedness

Of wronging women. Thou art false, false prince!

I live to see him: poor Spaconia lives

To tell thee thou art false, and then no more:

She lives to tell thee, thou art more inconstant

Than all ill women ever were together;

Thy faith as firm as raging overflows,

That no bank can command; and as lasting

As boys' gay bubbles, blown i' the air and broken:

The wind is fixed to thee; and sooner shall

The beaten mariner with his shrill whistle

Calm the loud murmurs of the troubled main,

And strike it smooth again, than thy soul fall

To have peace in love with any: thou art all

That all good men must hate; and if thy story

Shall tell succeeding ages what thou wert,

Oh, let it spare me in it, lest true lovers,

In pity of my wrongs, burn thy black legend,

And with their curses shake thy sleeping ashes!

Tigr. Oh! oh!

Spa. The Destinies, I hope, have pointed out

Our ends alike, that thou may'st die for love,

Though not for me; for, this assure thyself,

The princess hates thee deadly, and will sooner

Be won to marry with a bull, and safer,

Than such a beast as thou art. − I have struck,

I fear too deep; beshrew me for it! − Sir,

This sorrow works me, like a cunning friendship,

Into the same piece with it. − He's ashamed:

Alas, I have been too rugged! − Dear my lord,

I am sorry I have spoken anything,

Indeed I am, that may add more restraint

To that too much you have. Good sir, be pleased

To think it was a fault of love, not malice;

And do as I will do, − forgive it, prince:

I do, and can, forgive the greatest sins

To me you can repent of. Pray believe me.

Tigr. Oh, my Spaconia! oh, thou virtuous woman!

Spa. No more; the king, sir.

Enter Arbaces, Bacurius, and Mardonius.

Arb. Have you been careful of our noble prisoner,

That he want nothing fitting for his greatness?

Bac. I hope his grace will quit me for my care, sir.

Arb. 'Tis well. − Royal Tigranes, health!

Tigr. More than the strictness of this place can give, sir,

I offer back again to great Arbaces.

Arb. We thank you, worthy prince; and pray excuse us;

We have not seen you since your being here.

I hope your noble usage has been equal

With your own person: your imprisonment,

If it be any, I dare say, is easy;

And shall not out-last two days.

Tigr. I thank you.

My usage here has been the same it was,

Worthy a royal conqueror. For my restraint,

It came unkindly, because much unlooked-for;

But I must bear it.

Arb. What lady's that, Bacurius?

Bac. One of the princess' women, sir.

Arb. I feared it.

Why comes she hither?

Bac. To speak with the prince Tigranes.

Arb. From whom, Bacurius ?

Bac. From the princess, sir.

Arb. I knew I had seen her.

Mar. [Aside] His fit begins to take him now again:

'tis a strange fever, and 'twill shake us all anon, I fear.

Would he were well cured of this raging folly! Give

me the wars, where men are mad, and may talk what

they list, and held the bravest fellows; this pelting,

prattling peace is good for nothing; drinking's a virtue

to't.

Arb. I see there's truth in no man, nor obedience,

But for his own ends. Why did you let her in?

Bac. It was your own command to bar none from him:

Besides, the princess sent her ring, sir, for my warrant.

Arb. A token to Tigranes, did she not?

Sirrah, tell truth.

Bac. I do not use to lie, sir;

'Tis no way I eat or live by; and I think

This is no token, sir.

Mar. [Aside] This combat has undone him: if he had

been well beaten, he had been temperate. I shall never

see him handsome again, till he have a horseman's staff

poked through his shoulders, or an arm broke with a

bullet.

Arb. I am trifled with.

Bac. Sir?

Arb. I know it, as I know thee to be false.

Mar. [Aside] Now the clap comes.

Bac. You never knew me so, sir, I dare speak it;

And durst a worse man tell me, though my better −

Mar. [Aside] 'Tis well said, by my soul.

Arb. Sirrah, you answer as you had no life.

Bac. That I fear, sir, to lose nobly.

Arb. I say, sir, once again −

Bac. You may say what you please, sir:

Mar. [Aside] Would I might do so!

Arb. I will, sir; and say openly,

This woman carries letters: by my life,

I know she carries letters; this woman does it.

Mar. 'Would Bessus were here, to take her aside and

search her! he would quickly tell you what she

carried, sir.

Arb. I have found it out, this woman carries letters.

Mar. [Aside] If this hold, 'twill be an ill world for

bawds, chambermaids, and post-boys. I thank Heaven,

I have none but his letters-patents, things of his own

inditing.

Arb. Prince, this cunning cannot do't.

Tigr. Do what, sir? I reach you not.

Arb. It shall not serve your turn, prince.

Tigr. Serve my turn, sir?

Arb. Ay, sir, it shall not serve your turn.

Tigr. Be plainer, good sir.

Arb. This woman shall carry no more letters back to

your love, Panthea; by Heaven she shall not; I say she

shall not.

Mar. [Aside] This would make a saint swear like a

soldier, and a soldier like Termagant.

Tigr. This beats me more, king, than the blows you

gave me.

Arb. Take 'em away both, and together let ‘em be

prisoners, strictly and closely kept; or, sirrah, your

life shall answer it; and let nobody speak with 'em

hereafter.

Tigr. Well, I am subject to you,

And must endure these passions.

Spa. [Aside]

This is th' imprisonment I have looked for always,

And the dear place I would choose.

[Exeunt Bacurius, Tigranes, and Spaconia.]

Mar. Sir, have you done well now?

Arb. Dare you reprove it?

Mar. No.

Arb. You must be crossing me.

Mar. I have no letters, sir, to anger you,

But a dry sonnet of my corporal's,

To an old sutler's wife; and that I'll burn, sir.

'Tis like to prove a fine age for the ignorant.

Arb. How darest thou so often forfeit thy life?

Thou knowest it is in my power to take it.

Mar. Yes, and I know you wo' not; or, if you do,

You'll miss it quickly.

Arb. Why?

Mar. Who shall then tell you of these childish follies,

When I am dead? who shall put to his power

To draw those virtues out of a flood of humours,

Where they are drowned, and make 'em shine again?

No, cut my head off:

Then you may talk, and be believed and grow worse,

And have your too self-glorious temper rocked

Into a dead sleep, and the kingdom with you,

Till foreign swords be in your throats and slaughter

Be everywhere about you, like your flatterers.

Do, kill me.

Arb. Prithee, be tamer, good Mardonius.

Thou know'st I love thee; nay, I honour thee;

Believe it, good old soldier, I am thine;

But I am racked clean from myself; bear with me;

Wo't thou bear with me, good Mardonius?

Enter Gobrias.

Mar. There comes a good man; love him too; he's temperate;

You may live to have need of such a virtue;

Rage is not still in fashion.

Arb. Welcome, good Gobrias.

Gob. My service and this letter to your grace.

[Gives letter.]

Arb. From whom?

Gob. From the rich mine of virtue and all beauty,

Your mournful sister.

Arb. She is in prison, Gobrias, is she not?

Gob. [Kneels]

She is, sir, till your pleasure do enlarge her,

Which on my knees I beg. Oh, 'tis not fit

That all the sweetness of the world in one,

The youth and virtue that would tame wild tigers,

And wilder people that have known no manners,

Should live thus cloistered up! For your love's sake,

If there be any in that noble heart

To her, a wretched lady, and forlorn,

Or for her love to you, which is as much

As nature and obedience ever gave,

Have pity on her beauties!

Arb. Prithee, stand up. 'Tis true, she is too fair,

[Gobrias rises.]

And all these commendations but her own:

Would thou hadst never so commended her,

Or I ne'er lived to have heard it, Gobrias!

If thou but knew'st the wrong her beauty does her,

Thou wouldst, in pity of her, be a liar.

Thy ignorance has drawn me, wretched man,

Whither myself, nor thou, canst well tell. Oh my fate!

I think she loves me, but I fear another

Is deeper in her heart: how think'st thou, Gobrias?

Gob. I do beseech your grace, believe it not;

For, let me perish, if it be not false.

Good sir, read her letter.

[Arbaces reads.]

Mar. [Aside] This love, or what a devil it is, I know

not, begets more mischief than a wake. I had rather

be well beaten, starved, or lousy, than live within

the air on't. He, that had seen this brave fellow charge

through a grove of pikes but t'other day, and look

upon him now, will ne'er believe his eyes again. If

he continue thus but two days more, a tailor may beat

him with one hand tied behind him.

Arb. Alas, she would be at liberty;

And there be thousand reasons, Gobrias,

Thousands, that will deny it;

Which if she knew, she would contentedly

Be where she is, and bless her virtue for it,

And me, though she were closer: she would, Gobrias;

Good man, indeed she would.

Gob. Then, good sir, for her satisfactiön,

Send for her, and with reason let her know

Why she must live thus from you.

Arb. I will. Go, bring her to me.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE III.

A Room in the House of Bessus.

Enter Bessus, two Sword-Men, and a Boy.

Bes. You're very welcome, both! − Some stools there,

boy; and reach a table. − Gentlemen o' th' sword, pray

sit, without more compliment. − Begone, child.

[Exit Boy.]

I have been curious in the searching of you, because I

understand you wise and valiant persons.

1st Sw.M. We understand ourselves, sir.

Bes. Nay, gentlemen, and my dear friends o' the sword,

No compliment, I pray; but to the case

I hang upon, which, in few, is my honour.

2nd Sw.M. You cannot hang too much, sir, for your honour.

But to your case: be wise, and speak [the] truth.

Bes. My first doubt is, my beating by my prince.

1st Sw.M. Stay there a little, sir; Do you doubt a beating?

Or have you had a beating by your prince?

Bes. Gentlemen o' th' sword, my prince has beaten me.

2nd Sw.M. Brother, what think you of this case?

1st Sw.M. If he have beaten him, the case is clear.

2nd Sw.M. If he have beaten him, I grant the case. –

But how? − we cannot be too subtle in this business. −

I say, but how?

Bes. Even with his royal hand.

1st Sw.M. Was it a blow of love or indignation?

Bes. 'Twas twenty blows of indignation, gentlemen,

Besides two blows o' th' face.

2nd Sw.M. Those two blows o' th' face have made a new case on't;

The rest were but an honourable rudeness.

1st Sw.M. Two blows o' th' face, and given by a worse man,

I must confess, as we sword-men say, had turned

The business: mark me, brother, by a worse man;

But, being by his prince, had they been ten,

And those ten drawn ten teeth, besides the hazard

Of his nose for ever, all these had been but favours.

This is my flat opinion, which I'll die in.

2nd Sw.M. The king may do much, captain, believe it;

For had he cracked your skull through, like a bottle,

Or broke a rib or two with tossing of you,

Yet you had lost no honour. This is strange,

You may imagine, but this is truth now, captain.

Bes. I will be glad to embrace it, gentlemen.

But how far may he strike me?

1st Sw.M. There's another,

A new cause rising from the time and distance,

In which I will deliver my opinion.

He may strike, beat, or cause to be beaten;

For these are natural to man:

Your prince, I say, may beat you so far forth

As his dominion reacheth; that's for the distance;

The time, ten miles a-day, I take it.

2nd Sw.M. Brother, you err, 'tis fifteen miles a-day;

His stage is ten, his beatings are fifteen.

Bes. 'Tis of the longest, but we subjects must −

1st Sw.M. Be subject to it: you are wise and virtuous.

Bes. Obedience ever makes that noble use on't,

To which I dedicate my beaten body.

I must trouble you a little further, gentlemen o' th' sword.

2nd Sw.M. No trouble at all to us, sir, if we may

Profit your understanding: we are bound,

By virtue of our calling, to utter our opinions

Shortly and discretely.

Bes. My sorest business is, I have been kicked.

2nd Sw.M. How far, sir ?

Bes. Not to flatter myself in it, all over:

My sword lost, but not forcèd; for discretely

I rendered it, to save that imputation.

1st Sw.M. It showed discretion, the best part of valour.

2nd Sw.M. Brother, this is a pretty case; pray, ponder on't:

Our friend here has been kicked.

1st Sw.M. He has so, brother.

2nd Sw.M. Sorely, he says. Now, had he sit down here

Upon the mere kick, 't had been cowardly.

1st Sw.M. I think, it had been cowardly indeed.

2nd Sw.M. But our friend has redeemed it, in delivering

His sword without compulsion; and that man

That took it of him, I pronounce a weak one,

And his kicks nullities.

He should have kicked him after the delivery,

Which is the confirmation of a coward.

1st Sw.M. Brother, I take it you mistake the question;

For say, that I were kicked.

2nd Sw.M. I must not say so;

Nor I must not hear it spoke by th' tongue of man:

You kicked, dear brother! you are merry.

1st Sw.M. But put the case, I were kicked.

2nd Sw.M. Let them put it,

That are things weary of their lives, and know

Not honour! Put the case, you were kicked!

1st Sw.M. I do not say I was kicked.

2nd Sw.M. Nor no silly creature that wears his head

Without a case, his soul in a skin-coat:

You kicked, dear brother!

Bes. Nay, gentlemen, let us do what we shall do,

Truly and honestly! Good sirs, to the question.

1st Sw.M. Why, then, I say, suppose your boy kicked, captain.

2nd Sw.M. The boy may be supposed, he’s liable:

But, kick my brother!

1st Sw.M. A foolish, forward zeal, sir, in my friend,

But to the boy: suppose the boy were kicked.

Bes. I do suppose it.

1st Sw.M. Has your boy a sword?

Bes. Surely, no; I pray, suppose a sword too.

1st Sw.M. I do suppose it. You grant, your boy was kicked then.

2nd Sw.M. By no means, captain; let it be supposed still;

The word "grant" makes not for us.

1st Sw.M. I say, this must be granted.

2nd Sw.M. This must be granted, brother!

1st Sw.M. Ay, this must be granted.

2nd Sw.M. Still the must!

1st Sw.M. I say, this must be granted.

2nd Sw.M. Give me the must again! brother, you palter.

1st Sw.M. I will not hear you, wasp.

2nd Sw.M. Brother,

I say, you palter: the must three times together!

I wear as sharp steel as another man,

And my fox bites as deep: musted, my dear brother!

But to the case again.

Bes. Nay, look you, gentlemen −

2nd Sw.M. In a word, I ha' done.

1st Sw.M. A tall man, but intemperate; 'tis great pity.

Once more, suppose the boy kicked.

2nd Sw.M. Forward.

1st Sw.M. And, being throughly kicked, laughs at the kicker.

2nd Sw.M. So much for us. Proceed.

1st Sw.M. And in this beaten scorn, as I may call it,

Delivers up his weapon; where lies the error?

Bes. It lies i' the beating, sir: I found it four days since.

2nd Sw.M. The error, and a sore one, as I take it,

Lies in the thing kicking.

Bes. I understand that well; 'tis sore indeed, sir.

1st Sw.M. That is, according to the man that did it.

2nd Sw.M. There springs a new branch: whose was the foot?

Bes. A lord's.

1st Sw.M. The case is mighty; but, had it been two lords,

And both had kicked you, if you laughed, ‘tis clear.

Bes. I did laugh; but how will that help me, gentlemen?

2nd Sw.M. Yes, it shall help you, if you laughed aloud.

Bes. As loud as a kicked man could laugh, I laughed, sir.

1st Sw.M. My reason now: the valiant man is known

By suffering and contemning; you have [had]

Enough of both, and you are valiant.

2nd Sw.M. If he be sure he has been kicked enough;

For that brave sufferance you speak of, brother,

Consists not in a beating and away,

But in a cudgelled body, from eighteen

To eight and thirty; in a head rebuked

With pots of all size, daggers, stools, and bed-staves:

This shows a valiant man.

Bes. Then I am valiant, as valiant as the proudest;

For these are all familiar things to me;

Familiar as my sleep or want of money;

All my whole body's but one bruise with beating:

I think I have been cudgelled with all nations,

And almost all religions.

2nd Sw.M. Embrace him, brother! this man is valiant;

I know it by myself, he's valiant.

1st Sw.M. Captain, thou art a valiant gentleman;

Abide upon’t, a very valiant man.

Bes. My equal friends o' th' sword, I must request

Your hands to this.

2nd Sw.M. 'Tis fit it should be.

Bes. [To boy within.] Boy,

Get me some wine, and pen and ink, within. −

Am I clear, gentlemen?

1st Sw.M. Sir, when the world has taken notice what

We have done, make much of your body; for I'll pawn

My steel, men will be coyer of their legs

Hereafter.

Bes. I must request you go along,

and testify to the lord Bacurius,

Whose foot has struck me, how you find my case.

2nd Sw.M. We will; and tell that lord he must be ruled,

Or there be those abroad will rule his lordship.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE IV.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter on one side Arbaces,

on the other Gobrias and Panthea.

Gob. Sir, here's the princess.

Arb. Leave us, then, alone;

For the main cause of her imprisonment

Must not be heard by any but herself. −

[Exit Gobrias.]

You're welcome, sister; − and I would to Heaven

I could so bid you by another name! −

If you above love not such sins as these,

Circle my heart with thoughts as cold as snow,

To quench these rising flames that harbour here.

Pan. Sir, does it please you I shall speak?

Arb. Please me!

Ay, more than all the art of music can,

Thy speech doth please me; for it ever sounds

As thou brought'st joyful, unexpected news:

And yet it is not fit thou shouldst be heard;

I prithee, think so.

Pan. Be it so; I will.

I am the first that ever had a wrong

So far from being fit to have redress,

That 'twas unfit to hear it: I will back

To prison, rather than disquiet you,

And wait till it be fit.

Arb. No, do not go;

For I will hear thee with a serious thought:

I have collected all that's man about me

Together strongly, and I am resolved

To hear thee largely: but I do beseech thee,

Do not come nearer to me, for there is

Something in that, that will undo us both.

Pan. Alas, sir, am I venom?

Arb. Yes, to me;

Though, of thyself, I think thee to be in

As equal a degree of heat or cold

As nature can make; yet, as unsound men

Convert the sweetness and the nourishing'st meats

Into diseases, so shall I, distempered,

Do thee: I prithee, draw no nearer to me.

Pan. Sir, this is that I would: I am of late

Shut from the world; and why it should be thus

Is all I wish to know.

Arb. Why, credit me,

Panthea, credit me, that am thy brother,

Thy loving brother, that there is a cause

Sufficient, yet unfit for thee to know,

That might undo thee everlastingly,

Only to hear. Wilt thou but credit this?

By Heaven, tis true; believe it, if thou canst.

Pan. Children and fools are ever credulous,

And I am both I think, for I believe.

If you dissemble, be it on your head!

I'll back unto my prison. Yet, methinks,

I might be kept in some place where you are;

For in myself I find, I know not what

To call it, but it is a great desire

To see you often.

Arb. Fie, you come in a step; what do you mean?

Dear sister, do not so! Alas, Panthea;

Where I am would you be? why, that's the cause

You are imprisoned, that you may not be

Where I am.

Pan. Then I must endure it, sir.

Heaven keep you!

Arb. Nay, you shall hear the cause in short, Panthea;

And, when thou hear'st it, thou wilt blush for me,

And hang thy head down, like a violet

Full of the morning's dew. There is a way

To gain thy freedom; but 'tis such a one

As puts thee in worse bondage, and I know

Thou wouldst encounter fire, and make a proof

Whether the gods have care of innocence,

Rather than follow it. Know, I have lost,

The only difference betwixt man and beast,

My reason.

Pan. Heaven forbid!

Arb. Nay, it is gone;

And I am left as far without a bound

As the wild ocean, that obeys the winds;

Each sudden passion throws me where it lists,

And overwhelms all that oppose my will.

I have beheld thee with a lustful eye;

My heart is set on wickedness, to act

Such sins with thee, as I have been afraid

To think of. If thou dar'st consent to this,

(Which, I beseech thee, do not,) thou mayst gain

Thy liberty, and yield me a content:

If not, thy dwelling must be dark and close,

Where I may never see thee: for Heaven knows,

That laid this punishment upon my pride,

Thy sight at some time will enforce my madness

To make a start e'en to thy ravishing.

Now spit upon me, and call all reproaches

Thou canst devise together, and at once

Hurl 'em against me; for I am a sickness,

As killing as the plague, ready to seize thee.

Pan. Far be it from me to revile the king!

But it is true that I shall rather choose

To search out death, that else would search out me,

And in a grave sleep with my innocence,

Than welcome such a sin. It is my fate;

To these cross accidents I was ordained,

And must have patience; and, but that my eyes

Have more of woman in 'em than my heart,

I would not weep. Peace enter you again!

Arb. Farewell; and, good Panthea, pray for me,

(Thy prayers are pure,) that I may find a death,

However soon, before my passions grow,

That they forget what I desire is sin;

For thither they are tending. If that happen,

Then I shall force thee, though thou wert a virgin

By vow to Heaven, and shall pull a heap

Of strange yet un-invented sin upon me.

Pan. Sir, I will pray for you; yet you shall know

It is a sullen fate that governs us:

For I could wish, as heartily as you,

I were no sister to you; I should then

Embrace our lawful love, sooner than health.

Arb. Couldst thou affect me, then?

Pan. So perfectly,

That, as it is, I ne'er shall sway my heart

To like another.

Arb. Then, I curse my birth.

Must this be added to my miseries,

That thou art willing too? Is there no stop

To our full happiness but these mere sounds,

Brother and sister?

Pan. There is nothing else:

But these, alas! will separate us more

Than twenty worlds betwixt us!

Arb. I have lived

To conquer men, and now am overthrown

Only by words, brother and sister. Where

Have those words dwelling? I will find 'em out,

And utterly destroy 'em; but they are

Not to be grasped: let ‘em be men or beasts,

And I will cut 'em from the earth; or towns,

And I will raze 'em, and then blow 'em up:

Let 'em be seas, and I will drink 'em off,

And yet have unquenched fire left in my breast;

Let 'em be anything but merely voice.

Pan. But 'tis not in the power of any force

Or policy to conquer them.

Arb. Panthea,

What shall we do? shall we stand firmly here,

And gaze our eyes out?

Pan. Would I could do so!

But I shall weep out mine.

Arb. Accursèd man,

Thou bought'st thy reason at too dear a rate;

For thou hast all thy actions bounded in

With curious rules, when every beast is free:

What is there that acknowledges a kindred

But wretched man? Who ever saw the bull

Fearfully leave the heifer that he liked,

Because they had one dam?

Pan. Sir, I disturb you

And myself too; 'twere better I were gone.

Arb. I will not be so foolish as I was;

Stay, we will love just as becomes our births,

No otherwise: brothers and sisters may

Walk hand in hand together; so will we.

Come nearer: Is there any hurt in this?

Pan. I hope not.

Arb. Faith, there is none at all:

And tell me truly now, is there not one

You love above me?

Pan. No, by Heaven.

Arb. Why, yet

You sent unto Tigranes, sister.

Pan. True,

But for another: for the truth −

Arb. No more:

I'll credit thee; I know thou canst not lie,

Thou art all truth.

Pan. But is there nothing else

That we may do, but only walk? Methinks

Brothers and sisters lawfully may kiss.

Arb. And so they may, Panthea; so will we;

And kiss again too: we were scrupulous

And foolish, but we will be so no more.

Pan. If you have any mercy, let me go

To prison, to my death, to anything:

I feel a sin growing upon my blood,

Worse than all these, hotter, I fear, than yours.

Arb. That is impossible: what should we do?

Pan. Fly, sir, for Heaven's sake.

Arb. So we must: away!

Sin grows upon us more by this delay.

[Exeunt severally.]

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Before the Palace.

Enter Mardonius and Lygones.

Mar. Sir, the king has seen your commission, and believes it;

And freely, by this warrant, gives you power

To visit prince Tigranes, your noble master.

Lyg. I thank his grace, and kiss his hand.

Mar. But is the main of all your business

Ended in this?

Lyg. I have another, but a worse:

I am ashamed: it is a business −

Mar. You seem a worthy person; and a stranger

I am sure you are: you may employ me,

If you please, without your purse; such offices

Should ever be their own rewards.

Lyg. I am bound to your nobleness.

Mar. I may have need of you, and then this courtesy,

If it be any, is not ill bestowed.

But may I civilly desire the rest?

I shall not be a hurter, if no helper.

Lyg. Sir, you shall know I have lost a foolish daughter,

And with her all my patiënce: pilfered away

By a mean captain of your king's.

Mar. Stay there, sir:

If he have reached the noble worth of captain,

He may well claim a worthy gentlewoman,

Though she were yours and noble.

Lyg. I grant all that too. But this wretched fellow

Reaches no further than the empty name

That serves to feed him: were he valiant,

Or had but in him any noble nature,

That might hereafter promise him a good man,

My cares were so much lighter, and my grave

A span yet from me.

Mar. I confess, such fellows

Be in all royal camps, and have and must be,

To make the sin of coward more detested

In the mean soldier, that with such a foil

Sets off much valour. By descriptiön,

I should now guess him to you; it was Bessus,

I dare almost with confidence pronounce it.

Lyg. 'Tis such a scurvy name as Bessus;

And, now I think, 'tis he.

Mar. Captain do you call him?

Believe me, sir, you have a misery

Too mighty for your age: a pox upon him!

For that must be the end of all his service.

Your daughter was not mad, sir?

Lyg. No; 'would she had been!

The fault had had more credit. I would do something.

Mar. I would fain counsel you, but to what I know not.

He's so below a beating, that the women

Find him not worthy of their distaves; and

To hang him were to cast away a rope.

He's such an airy, thin, unbodied coward,

That no revenge can catch him.

I'll tell you, sir, and tell you truth: this rascal

Fears neither God nor man; has been so beaten,

Sufferance has made him wainscot; he has had,

Since he was first a slave.

At least three hundred daggers set in's head,

As little boys do new knives in hot meat;

There's not a rib in's body, o' my conscience,

That has not been thrice broken with dry beating;

And now his sides look like two wicker targets,

Every way bended:

Children will shortly take him for a wall,

And set their stone-bows in his forehead. He

Is of so base a sense, I cannot in

A week imagine what should be done to him.

Lyg. Sure, I have committed some great sin,

That this strange fellow should be made my rod:

I would see him; but I shall have no patience.

Mar. 'Tis no great matter, if you have not. If a laming

of him, or such a toy, may do you pleasure, sir, he has

it for you; and I'll help you to him: ‘tis no news to him

to have a leg broken, or a shoulder out, with being

turn'd o' the stones like a tansy. Draw not your sword,

if you love it; for, on my conscience, his head will

break it; we use him i' the wars like a ram, to shake a

wall withal. Here comes the very person of him; do as

you shall find your temper; I must leave you: but if

you do not break him like a biscuit, you're much to

blame, sir.

[Exit.]

Enter Bessus and the two Sword-Men.

Lyg. Is your name Bessus?

Bes. Men call me Captain Bessus.

Lyg. Then, Captain Bessus, you are a rank rascal,

without more exordiums, a dirty frozen slave! And

with the favour of your friends here, I will beat you.

2nd Sw.M. Pray, use your pleasure, sir; you seem to

be a gentleman.

Lyg. [Beats Bessus.] Thus, Captain Bessus, thus!

[Kicks him, &c.]

Thus twinge your nose, thus kick you, and thus tread you.

Bes. I do beseech you, yield your cause, sir, quickly.

Lyg. Indeed, I should have told you that first.

Bes. I take it so.

1st Sw.M. Captain, he should, indeed; he is mistaken.

Lyg. Sir, you shall have it quickly, and more beating:

You have stolen away a lady, Captain Coward,

And such a one −

[Beats him.]

Bes. Hold, I beseech you, hold, sir!

I never yet stole any living thing

That had a tooth about it.

Lyg. Sir, I know you dare lie.

Bes. With none but summer-whores, upon my life, sir:

My means and manners never could attempt

Above a hedge or haycock.

Lyg. Sirrah, that quits not me. Where is this lady?

Do that you do not use to do, tell truth,

Or, by my hand, I'll beat your captain's brains out,

Wash 'em and put 'em in again, that will I.

Bes. There was a lady, sir, I must confess,

Once in my charge; the prince Tigranes gave her

To my guard, for her safety. How I used her

She may herself report; she's with the prince now.

I did but wait upon her like a groom,

Which she will testify, I am sure; if not,

My brains are at your service, when you please, sir,

And glad I have 'em for you.

Lyg. This is most likely. Sir, I ask your pardon

And am sorry I was so intemperate.

Bes. Well, I can ask no more. You would think it

strange now, to have me beat you at first sight.

Lyg. Indeed I would; but I know your goodness can

forget twenty beatings: you must forgive me.

Bes. Yes; there's my hand. Go where you will, I shall

think you a valiant fellow, for all this.

Lyg. [Aside] My daughter is a whore;

I feel it now too sensible; yet I will see her;

Discharge myself of being father to her,

And then back to my country, and there die. −

Farewell, captain.

Bes. Farewell, sir, farewell; commend me to the

gentlewoman, I pray.

[Exit Lygones.]

1st Sw.M. How now, captain? bear up, man.

Bes. Gentlemen o' the sword, your hands once more;

I have been kicked again; but the foolish fellow is

penitent, he asked me mercy, and my honour's safe.

2nd Sw.M. We knew that, or the foolish fellow

had better have kicked his grandsire.

Bes. Confirm, confirm, I pray.

1st Sw.M. There be our hands again.

2nd Sw.M. Now let him come, and say he was not

sorry, and he sleeps for it.

Bes. Alas, good, ignorant old man! let him go, let him

go: these courses will undo him.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V, SCENE II.

A Prison.

Enter Lygones and Bacurius.

Bac. My lord, your authority is good, and I am glad it is

so; for my consent would never hinder you from seeing

your own king: I am a minister, but not a governor of

this state. Yonder is your king; I'll leave you.

[Exit.]

Enter Tigranes and Spaconia.

Lyg. There he is,

Indeed, and with him my disloyal child.

Tigr. I do perceive my fault so much, that yet,

Methinks, thou shouldst not have forgiven me.

Lyg. Health to your majesty!

Tigr. What, good Lygones!

Welcome: what business brought thee hither?

Lyg. Several

Businesses: my public business will appear

By this;

[Gives a paper.]

I have a message to deliver,

Which, if it please you so to authorize,

Is an embassage from the Armenian state

Unto Arbaces for your liberty:

The offer's there set down; please you to read it.

Tigr. There is no alteration happened since

I came thence?

Lyg. None, sir; all is as it was.

Tigr. And all our friends are well?

Lyg. All very well.

[Tigranes reads.]

Spa. [Aside]

Though I have done nothing but what was good,

I dare not see my father: it was fault

Enough not to acquaint him with that good.

Lyg. Madam, I should have seen you.

Spa. Oh, good sir, forgive me!

Lyg. Forgive you! why, I am no kin to you, am I?

Spa. Should it be measured by my mean deserts,

Indeed you are not.

Lyg. Thou couldst prate unhappily

Ere thou couldst go; would thou couldst do as well!

And how does your custom hold out here?

Spa. Sir?

Lyg. Are you in private still, or how?

Spa. What do you mean?

Lyg. Do you take money? Are you come to sell sin

yet? perhaps I can help you to liberal clients: or has

not the king cast you off yet? Oh, thou vild creature,

whose best commendation is, that thou art a young

whore! I would thy mother had lived to see this; or,

rather, that I had died ere I had seen it! Why didst not

make me acquainted when thou wert first resolved

to be a whore? I would have seen thy hot lust satisfied

more privately: I would have kept a dancer, and a

whole consort of musicians, in my own house, only

to fiddle thee.

Spa. Sir, I was never whore.

Lyg. If thou couldst not

Say so much for thyself, thou shouldst be carted.

Tigr. Lygones, I have read it, and I like it;

You shall deliver it.

Lyg. Well, sir, I will:

But I have private business with you.

Tigr. Speak; what is't?

Lyg. How has my age deserved so ill of you,

That you can pick no strumpets i' the land,

But out of my breed?

Tigr. Strumpets, good Lygones!

Lyg. Yes; and I wish to have you know, I scorn

To get a whore for any prince alive;

And yet scorn will not help: methinks, my daughter

Might have been spared; there were enow besides.

Tigr. May I not prosper but she's innocent

As morning light, for me! and, I dare swear,

For all the world.

Lyg. Why is she with you, then?

Can she wait on you better than your man?

Has she a gift in plucking off your stockings?

Can she make caudles well, or cut your corns?

Why do you keep her with you? For a queen,

I know, you do contemn her; so should I;

And every subject else think much at it.

Tigr. Let 'em think much; but 'tis more firm than earth.

Thou seest thy queen there.

Lyg. Then have I made a fair hand: I called her whore.

If I shall speak now as her father, I cannot choose but

greatly rejoice that she shall be a queen; but if I shall

speak to you as a statesman, she were more fit to be

your whore.

Tigr. Get you about your business to Arbaces;

Now you talk idly.

Lyg. Yes, sir, I will go.

And shall she be a queen? She had more wit

Than her old father, when she ran away:

Shall she be queen? now, by my troth, 'tis fine.

I'll dance out of all measure at her wedding;

Shall I not, sir?

Tigr. Yes, marry, shalt thou.

Lyg. I'll make these withered kexes bear my body

Two hours together above ground.

Tigr. Nay, go;

My business requires haste.

Lyg. Good Heaven preserve you!

You are an excellent king.

Spa. Farewell, good father.

Lyg. Farewell, sweet virtuous daughter.

I never was so joyful in my life,

That I remember: shall she be a queen?

Now I perceive a man may weep for joy;

I had thought they had lied that said so.

[Exit.]

Tigr. Come, my dear love.

Spa. But you may see another,

May alter that again.

Tigr. Urge it no more:

I have made up a new strong constancy,

Not to be shook with eyes. I know I have

The passions of a man; but if I meet

With any subject that should hold my eyes

More firmly than is fit, I'll think of thee,

And run away from it: let that suffice.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V, SCENE III.

A Room in the house of Bacurius.

Enter Bacurius and Servant.

Bac. Three gentlemen without, to speak with me?

Serv. Yes, sir.

Bac. Let them come in.

Enter Bessus and the two Sword-Men.

Serv. They are entered, sir, already.

Bac. Now, fellows, your business? − Are these the gentlemen?

Bes. My lord, I have made bold to bring these gentlemen,

My friends o' the sword, along with me.

Bac. I am

Afraid you'll fight, then.

Bes. My good lord, I will not;

Your lordship is mistaken; fear not, lord.

Bac. Sir, I am sorry for't.

Bes. I ask no more in honour. − Gentlemen,

You hear my lord is sorry.

Bac. Not that I have

Beaten you, but beaten one that will be beaten;

One whose dull body will require a lamming,

As surfeits do the diet, spring and fall.

Now, to your sword-men:

What come they for, good captain Stockfish?

Bes. It seems your lordship has forgot my name.

Bac. No, nor your nature neither; though they are

Things fitter, I must confess, for any thing

Than my remembrance, or any honest man's:

What shall these billets do? be piled up in my

woodyard?

Bes. Your lordship holds your mirth still, Heaven continue it!

But, for these gentlemen, they come −

Bac. To swear

You are a coward? Spare your book; I do believe it.

Bes. Your lordship still draws wide; they come to

vouch, under their valiant hands, I am no coward.

Bac. That would be a show, indeed, worth seeing.

Sirrah, be wise and take money for this motion; travel

with it; and where the name of Bessus has been

known, or a good coward stirring, 'twill yield more

than a tilting: this will prove more beneficial to you,

if you be thrifty, than your captainship, and more

natural. − Men of most valiant hands, is this true?

2nd Sw.M. It is so, most renowned.

Bac. 'Tis somewhat strange.

1st Sw.M. Lord, it is strange, yet true.

We have examined, from your lordship's foot there

To this man's head, the nature of the beatings;

And we do find his honour is come off

Clean and sufficient: this, as our swords shall help us!

Bac. You are much bound to your bilbo-men;

I am glad you're straight again, captain. 'Twere good

You would think on some way to gratify them:

They have undergone a labour for you, Bessus,

Would have puzzled Hercules with all his valour.

2nd Sw.M. Your lordship must understand we are no men

Of the law, that take pay for our opinions;

It is sufficient we have cleared our friend.

Bac. Yet there is something due, which I, as touched

In conscience, will discharge. − Captain, I'll pay

This rent for you.

Bes. Spare yourself, my good lord;

My brave friends aim at nothing but the virtue.

Bac. That's but a cold discharge, sir, for their pains.

2nd Sw.M. Oh, lord! my good lord!

Bac. Be not so modest; I will give you something.

Bes. They shall dine with your lordship; that's sufficient.

Bac. Something in hand the while. You rogues, you apple-squires,

Do you come hither, with your bottled valour,

Your windy froth, to limit out my beatings?

[Kicks them.]

1st Sw.M. I do beseech your lordship!

2nd Sw.M. Oh, good lord!

Bac. 'Sfoot, what a bevy of beaten slaves are here! −

Get me a cudgel, sirrah, and a tough one.

[Exit Servant.]

2nd Sw.M. More of your foot, I do beseech your lordship!

Bac. You shall, you shall, dog, and your fellow beagle.

1st Sw.M. O' this side, good my lord.

Bac. Off with your swords; for if you hurt my foot,

I'll have you flead, you rascals.

1st Sw.M. Mine's off, my lord.

2nd Sw.M. I beseech your lordship, stay a little; my strap's

Tied to my cod-piece point: now, when you please.

[They take off their swords.]

Bac. Captain, these are your valiant friends; you long

For a little too?

Bes. I am very well, I humbly thank your lordship.

Bac. What's that in your pocket hurts my toe, you mongrel?

Thy buttocks cannot be so hard; out with't quickly.

2nd Sw.M. [Takes out a pistol.] Here 'tis, sir;

A small piece of artillery, that a gentleman,

A dear friend of your lordship's, sent me with,

To get it mended, sir; for, if you mark,

The nose is somewhat loose.

Bac. A friend of mine, you rascal! −

I was never wearier of doing nothing,

Than kicking these two foot-balls.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Here's a good cudgel, sir.

Bac. It comes too late; I am weary; prithee, do thou

beat them.

2nd Sw.M. My lord, this is foul play, i'faith, to put a

fresh man upon us: men are but men, sir.

Bac. That jest shall save your bones. − Captain, rally

up your rotten regiment, and begone. − I had rather

thresh than be bound to kick these rascals till they

cried, "ho!" − Bessus, you may put your hand to them

now, and then you are quit. – Farewell: as you like

this, pray visit me again; 'twill keep me in good breath.

[Exit.]

2nd Sw.M. H’as a devilish hard foot; I never felt the like.

1st Sw.M. Nor I; and yet, I am sure, I ha’ felt a hundred.

2nd Sw.M. If he kick thus i' the dog-days, he will be dry-foundered. –

What cure now, captain, besides oil of bays?

Bes. Why, well enough, I warrant you; you can go?

2nd Sw.M. Yes, Heaven be thanked! but I feel a shrewd ache;

Sure, h’as sprung my huckle-bone.

1st Sw.M. I ha' lost a haunch.

Bes. A little butter, friend, a little butter;

Butter and parsley is a sovereign matter:

Probatum est.

2nd Sw.M. Captain, we must request

Your hand now to our honours.

Bes. Yes, marry, shall ye;

And then let all the world come; we are valiant

To ourselves, and there's an end.

1st Sw.M. Nay, then, we must

Be valiant. Oh, my ribs!

2nd Sw.M. Oh, my small guts!

A plague upon these sharp-toed shoes! they are murderers.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V, SCENE IV.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Arbaces, with his sword drawn.

Arb. It is resolved: I bore it whilst I could;

I can no more. Hell, open all thy gates,

And I will thorough them: if they be shut,

I'll batter 'em, but I will find the place

Where the most damned have dwelling! Ere I end,

Amongst them all they shall not have a sin,

But I may call it mine: I must begin

With murder of my friend, and so go on

To that incestuous ravishing, and end

My life and sins with a forbidden blow

Upon myself!

Enter Mardonius.

Mar. What tragedy is near?

That hand was never wont to draw a sword,

But it cried "dead" to something.

Arb. Mardonius,

Have you bid Gobrias come?

Mar. How do you, sir?

Arb. Well. Is he coming?

Mar. Why, sir, are you thus?

Why does your hand proclaim a lawless war

Against yourself ?

Arb. Thou answer'st me one question with another:

Is Gobrias coming?

Mar. Sir, he is.

Arb. 'Tis well:

I can forbear your questions, then. Begone.

Mar. Sir, I have marked −

Arb. Mark less; it troubles you and me.

Mar. You are

More variable than you were.

Arb. It may be so.

Mar. To-day no hermit could be humbler

Than you were to us all.

Arb. And what of this?

Mar. And now you take new rage into your eyes,

As you would look us all out of the land.

Arb. I do confess it; will that satisfy?

I prithee, get thee gone.

Mar. Sir, I will speak.

Arb. Will ye?

Mar. It is my duty.

I fear you'll kill yourself: I am a subject,

And you shall do me wrong in't; 'tis my cause,

And I may speak.

Arb. Thou art not trained in sin,

It seems, Mardonius: kill myself! by Heaven,

I will not do it yet; and, when I will,

I'll tell thee; then I shall be such a creature,

That thou wilt give me leave without a word.

There is a method in man's wickedness;

It grows up by degrees: I am not come

So high as killing of myself; there are

A hundred thousand sins 'twixt me and it,

Which I must do; I shall come to't at last,

But, take my oath, not now. Be satisfied,

And get thee hence.

Mar. I am sorry 'tis so ill.

Arb. Be sorry, then:

True sorrow is alone; grieve by thyself.

Mar. I pray you let me see your sword put up

Before I go: I'll leave you then.

Arb. [Sheathing his sword] Why, so.

What folly is this in thee? is it not

As apt to mischief as it was before?

Can I not reach it, think'st thou? These are toys

For children to be pleased with, and not men.

Now I am safe, you think: I would the book

Of Fate were here: my sword is not so sure

But I would get it out, and mangle that,

That all the Destinies should quite forget

Their fixed decrees, and haste to make us new,

For other fortunes; mine could not be worse.

Wilt thou now leave me?

Mar. Heaven put into your bosom temperate thoughts!

I'll leave you, though I fear.

[Exit Mardonius.]

Arb. Go; thou art honest.

Why should the hasty errors of my youth

Be so unpardonable to draw a sin,

Helpless, upon me?

Enter Gobrias.

Gob. [Aside] There is the king;

Now it is ripe.

Arb. Draw near, thou guilty man,

That art the author of the loathed'st crime

Five ages have brought forth, and hear me speak:

Curses incurable, and all the evils

Man's body or his spirit can receive,

Be with thee!

Gob. Why, sir, do you curse me thus?

Arb. Why do I curse thee? If there be a man

Subtle in curses, that exceeds the rest,

His worst wish on thee! thou hast broke my heart.

Gob. How, sir! Have I preserved you, from a child,

From all the arrows malice or ambition

Could shoot at you, and have I this for pay?

Arb. 'Tis true, thou didst preserve me, and in that,

Wert cruèller than hardened murderers

Of infants and their mothers: thou didst save me,

Only till thou hadst studied out a way

How to destroy me cunningly thyself;

This was a curious way of torturing.

Gob. What do you mean?

Arb. Thou know'st the evils thou hast done to me:

Dost thou remember all those witching letters

Thou sent'st unto me to Armenia,

Filled with the praise of my belovèd sister,

Where thou extol'dst her beauty? − what had I

To do with that? what could her beauty be

To me? − and thou didst write how well she loved me! −

Dost thou remember this? − so that I doted

Something before I saw her.

Gob. This is true.

Arb. Is it? and, when I was returned, thou know'st,

Thou didst pursue it, till thou wound'st me in

To such a strange and unbelieved affection,

As good men cannot think on.

Gob. This I grant;

I think I was the cause.

Arb. Wert thou? Nay, more.

I think thou meant'st it.

Gob. Sir, I hate a lie:

As I love Heaven and honesty, I did;

It was my meaning.

Arb. Be thine own sad judge:

A further condemnation will not need:

Prepare thyself to die.

Gob. Why, sir, to die?

Arb. Why shouldst thou live? was ever yet offender

So impudent, that had a thought of mercy

After confession of a crime like this?

Get out I cannot where thou hurl'st me in;

But I can take revenge; that's all the sweetness

Left for me.

Gob. [Aside] Now is the time. − Hear me but speak.

Arb. No. Yet I will be far more merciful

Than thou wert to me: thou didst steal into me

And never gav’st me warning: so much time

As I give thee now, had prevented me

For ever. Notwithstanding all thy sins,

If thou hast hope that there is yet a prayer

To save thee, turn and speak it to thyself.

Gob. Sir, you shall know your sins, before you do 'em:

If you kill me −

Arb. I will not stay then.

Gob. Know

You kill your father.

Arb. How?

Gob. You kill your father.

Arb. My father! Though I know it for a lie,

Made out of fear, to save thy stainèd life,

The very reverence of the word comes 'cross me,

And ties mine arm down.

Gob. I will tell you that

Shall heighten you again; I am thy father;

I charge thee hear me.

Arb. If it should be so,

As 'tis most false, and that I should be found

A bastard issue, the despisèd fruit

Of lawless lust, I should no more admire

All my wild passions! But another truth

Shall be wrung from thee: if I could come by

The spirit of pain, it should be poured on thee,

'Till thou allow'st thyself more full of lies

Than he that teaches thee.

Enter Arane.

Arane. Turn thee about;

I come to speak to thee, thou wicked man!

Hear me, thou tyrant!

Arb. I will turn to thee:

Hear me, thou strumpet! I have blotted out

The name of mother, as thou hast thy shame.

Arane. My shame! Thou hast less shame than any thing:

Why dost thou keep my daughter in a prison?

Why dost thou call her sister, and do this?

Arb. Cease, thou strange impudence, and answer quickly!

[Draws his sword.]

If thou contemn'st me, this will ask an answer,

And have it.

Arane. Help me, gentle Gobrias!

Arb. Guilt dare not help guilt: though they grow together

In doing ill, yet at the punishment

They sever, and each flies the noise of other.

Think not of help; answer!

Arane. I will; to what?

Arb. To such a thing, as, if it be a truth,

Think what a creature thou hast made thyself,

That didst not shame to do what I must blush

Only to ask thee. Tell me who I am,

Whose son I am, without all circumstance;

Be thou as hasty as my sword will be,

If thou refusest.

Arane. Why, you are his son.

Arb. His son? Swear, swear, thou worse than woman damned!

Arane. By all that's good, you are.

Arb. Then art thou all

That ever was known bad. Now is the cause

Of all my strange misfortunes come to light.

What reverence expect'st thou from a child,

To bring forth which thou hast offended Heaven,

Thy husband, and the land? Adulterous witch,

I know now why thou wouldst have poisoned me:

I was thy lust, which thou wouldst have forgot!

Then, wicked mother of my sins and me,

Show me the way to the inheritance

I have by thee, which is a spacious world

Of impious acts, that I may soon possess it.

Plagues rot thee as thou liv'st, and such diseases

As use to pay lust recompense thy deed!

Gob. You do not know why you curse thus.

Arb. Too well.

You are a pair of vipers; and behold

The serpent you have got! There is no beast,

But, if he knew it, has a pedigree

As brave as mine, for they have more descents;

And I am every way as beastly got,

As far without the compass of a law,

As they.

Arane. You spend your rage and words in vain,

And rail upon a guess; hear us a little.

Arb. No, I will never hear, but talk away

My breath, and die.

Gob. Why, but you are no bastard.

Arb. How's that?

Arane. Nor child of mine.

Arb. Still you go on

In wonders to me.

Gob. Pray you, be more patient:

I may bring comfort to you.

Arb. I will kneel,

[Kneels.]

And hear with the obedience of a child.

Good father, speak! I do acknowledge you,

So you bring comfort.

Gob. First know, our last king, your supposèd father,

Was old and feeble when he married her,

And almost all the land as she, past hope

Of issue from him.

Arb. Therefore she took leave

To play the whore, because the king was old:

Is this the comfort?

Arane. What will you find out

To give me satisfaction, when you find

How you have injured me? Let fire consume me,

If ever I were whore!

Gob. Forbear these starts,

Or I will leave you wedded to despair,

As you are now. if you can find a temper,

My breath shall be a pleasant western wind,

That cools and blasts not.

Arb. Bring it out, good father.

I'll lie, and listen here as reverently

[Lies down.]

As to an angel: if I breathe too loud,

Tell me; for I would be as still as night.

Gob. Our king, I say, was old, and this our queen

Desired to bring an heir, but her yet husband,

She thought was past it; and to be dishonest,

I think she would not: if she would have been,

The truth is, she was watched so narrowly,

And had so slender opportunities,

She hardly could have been. But yet her cunning

Found out this way; she feigned herself with child,

And posts were sent in haste throughout the land,

And God was humbly thanked in every church,

That so had blessed the queen, and prayers were made

For her safe going and delivery.

She feigned now to grow bigger; and perceived

This hope of issue made her feared, and brought

A far more large respect from every man,

And saw her power increase, and was resolved,

Since she believed she could not have't indeed,

At least she would be thought to have a child.

Arb. Do I not hear it well? nay, I will make

No noise at all; but, pray you, to the point,

Quick as you can!

Gob. Now when the time was full

She should be brought to bed, I had a son

Born, which was you. This, the queen hearing of,

Moved me to let her have you: and such reasons

She showed me, as she knew would tie

My secrecy: she swore you should be king;

And, to be short, I did deliver you

Unto her, and pretended you were dead,

And in mine own house kept a funeral,

And had an empty coffin put in earth.

That night this queen feigned hastily to labour,

And by a pair of women of her own,

Which she had charmed, she made the world believe

She was delivered of you. You grew up

As the king's son, till you were six years old:

Then did the king die, and did leave to me

Protection of the realm; and, contrary

To his own expectation, left this queen

Truly with child, indeed, of the fair princess

Panthea. Then she could have torn her hair,

And did alone to me, yet durst not speak

In public, for she knew she should be found

A traitor; and her tale would have been thought

Madness, or any thing rather than truth.

This was the only cause why she did seek

To poison you, and I to keep you safe;

And this the reason why I sought to kindle

Some sparks of love in you to fair Panthea,

That she might get part of her right again.

Arb. And have you made an end now? Is this all?

If not, I will be still till I be aged,

Till all my hairs be silver.

Gob. This is all.

Arb. [Rising] And is it true, say you too, madam?

Arane. Yes;

Heaven knows, it is most true.

Arb. Panthea, then, is not my sister?

Gob. No.

Arb. But can you prove this?

Gob. If you will give consent,

Else who dares go about it?

Arb. Give consent?

Why, I will have 'em all that know it racked

To get this from 'em. − All that wait without,

Come in; whate'er you be, come in, and be

Partakers of my joy! −

Re-enter Mardonius, with Bessus, two Gentlemen,

and Attendants.

Oh, you are welcome!

Mardonius, the best news! − Nay, draw no nearer;

They all shall hear it: − I am found no king.

Mar. Is that so good news?

Arb. Yes, the happiest news

That e'er was heard.

Mar. Indeed, 'twere well for you

If you might be a little less obeyed.

Arb. One call the queen.

Mar. Why, she is there.

Arb. The queen,

Mardonius! Panthea is the queen,

And I am plain Arbaces. – Go, some one;

She is in Gobrias' house.

[Exit 1st Gentleman.]

Since I saw you,

There are a thousand things delivered to me

You little dream of.

Mar. So it should seem. − My lord,

What fury's this?

Gob. Believe me, 'tis no fury;

All that he says is truth.

Mar. 'Tis very strange.

Arb. Why do you keep your hats off, gentlemen?

Is it to me? I swear, it must not be;

Nay, trust me, in good faith, it must not be:

I cannot now command you; but I pray you,

For the respect you bare me when you took

Me for your king, each man clap on his hat

At my desire.

Mar. We will: but you are not found

So mean a man but that you may be covered

As well as we; may you not?

Arb. Oh, not here!

You may, but not I, for here is my father

In presence.

Mar. Where?

Arb. Why, there. Oh, the whole story

Would be a wilderness, to lose thyself

For ever. − Oh, pardon me, dear father,

For all the idle and unreverent words

That I have spoke in idle moods to you! −

I am Arbaces; we all fellow-subjects;

Nor is the queen Panthea now my sister.

Bes. Why, if you remember, fellow-subject Arbaces,

I told you once she was not your sister; ay, and she

looked nothing like you.

Arb. I think you did, good captain Bessus.

Bes. [Aside] Here will arise another question now

amongst the sword-men, whether I be to call him

to account for beating me, now he is proved no king.

Enter Lygones.

Mar. Sir, here's Lygones, the agent for the Armenian

state.

Arb. Where is he? − I know your business, good Lygones.

Lyg. We must have our king again, and will.

Arb. I knew that was your business. You shall have

Your king again; and have him so again

As never king was had. − Go, one of you,

And bid Bacurius bring Tigranes hither;

And bring the lady with him, that Panthea,

The queen Panthea, sent me word this morning

Was brave Tigranes' mistress.

[Exit 2nd Gentleman.]

Lyg. 'Tis Spaconia.

Arb. Ay, ay, Spaconia.

Lyg. She is my daughter.

Arb. She is so. I could now tell any thing

I never heard. Your king shall go so home

As never man went.

Mar. Shall he go on's head?

Arb. He shall have chariots easier than air,

That I will have invented; and ne'er think

He shall pay any ransom: and thyself,

That art the messenger, shall ride before him

On a horse cut out of an entire diamond,

That shall be made to go with golden wheels,

I know not how yet.

Lyg. [Aside] Why, I shall be made

For ever! They belied this king with us

And said he was unkind.

Arb. And then thy daughter;

She shall have some strange thing: we'll have the kingdom

Sold utterly and put into a toy,

Which she shall wear about her carelessly,

Somewhere or other. –

Enter Panthea with 1st Gentleman.

See the virtuous queen! −

Behold the humblest subject that you have,

Kneel here before you.

[Kneels.]

Pan. Why kneel you to me,

That am your vassal?

Arb. Grant me one request.

Pan. Alas; what can I grant you? what I can I will.

Arb. That you will please to marry me,

If I can prove it lawful.

Pan. Is that all?

More willingly than I would draw this air.

Arb. [Rising] I'll kiss this hand in earnest.

Re-enter 2^nd Gentleman.

2nd Gent. Sir, Tigranes

Is coming, though he made it strange at first

To see the princess any more.

Arb. The queen,

Thou mean'st. −

Enter Tigranes and Spaconia.

Oh, my Tigranes, pardon me!

Tread on my neck: I freely offer it;

And, if thou be'st so given, take revenge,

For I have injured thee.

Tigr. No; I forgive,

And rejoice more that you have found repentance,

Than I my liberty.

Arb. May'st thou be happy

In thy fair choice, for thou art temperate!

You owe no ransom to the state! Know that

I have a thousand joys to tell you of,

Which yet I dare not utter, till I pay

My thanks to Heaven for 'em. Will you go

With me, and help me? pray you, do.

Tigr. I will.

Arb. Take, then, your fair one with you: − and you, queen

Of goodness and of us, oh, give me leave

To take your arm in mine! − Come, every one

That takes delight in goodness, help to sing

Loud thanks for me, that I am proved no king.

[Exeunt.]

FINIS